


Put Me Back Together

by Galexz



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mentor/Protégé, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 123,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galexz/pseuds/Galexz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss Everdeen won the 63rd Hunger Games becoming the most popular victor in history. Three years later she must mentor the next up and coming star, Finnick Odair. She teach him what it means to be a survivor of the Games and the Capitol's affections and he will help her do more than just survive. Katniss/Finnick AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **AN:** I blame plot bunnies. I love the relationship between Katniss and Finnick in the books and went hunting for stories of the two of them together as friends and/or lovers. I found some interesting ones, but they did nothing but fuel my imagination. I had wanted this to be a one-shot, but the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write. So this is going to come in three parts and follow their growth as friends then lovers as they fight in the rebellion. And they are going to fight because that is what they do. Now I know that they are both OOC, but I tried to keep the heart of their characters. Katniss is still family oriented, protective and fierce but still unsure about her own feelings and future. Finnick is still sincere, strong and caring. I also messed around with the ages, so here's a quick break down so that people don't get confused:
> 
> Ages at 63rd Hunger games: Katniss, 16. Finnick, 11. Gale, 18. Prim, 10. Rory, 11. Vick, 5. Posy, 4.  
> Ages at 66th Hunger games: Katniss, 19. Finnick, 14. Prim, 16. Rory, 17. Vic. 11. Posy 10.  
> Ages at 74th Hunger games: Katniss, 27. Finnick 22. Prim, 21. Rory, 22. Vic, 16. Posy, 15.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> **Premise:** Katniss won the 63rd Hunger Games and become the most popular tribute ever. Now she must mentor the next up and coming star, Finnick Odair.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Suzanne Collins owns everything.

Katniss Everdeen took the 63rd Hunger Games by storm. No one in the Capitol had thought much of her when she was reaped - a small, skinny girl from a small, insignificant district. Thier eyes and their bets were initially drawn to the Careers from the wealthier district who had dominated the Hunger Games in the last 10 years. 

Then Katniss Everdeen rode out on a chariot of fire. All eyes were drawn to her and with every new exposure, the Capitol fell more and more in love with the Girl on Fire. She was strongest of the tributes, but no one knew why. She was enigmatic and coy in her interview. 

Then she went into the arena and the Capitol watched as Katniss Everdeen became a predator. The first night is traditionally brutal thanks to the bloodthirsty Careers but it was Katniss that did the hunting. She slinked through the night with a bow and arrow from the Cornucopia and on silent feet she took down the Careers one by one. By the morning, only half of the Careers the remained. 

Over the next week she captured and killed with an effortless grace. The only chink in her impenetrable armor came in the form of a young girl from District 11 - Rue. Katniss had taken the small child under her wing, protecting her as fiercely as a mother bear does her cub. When the girl died, Katniss cried angry tears and the Capitol cried with her. 

Then, where there were only a handful of tributes left, the Gamemakers put forth a feast. It was to bring the tributes together to fight, but there was no fight. Katniss sat in a tree and took out the last three tributes with terrifying precision and speed. 

With that, Katniss went from being a tribute to a victor and she was forever etched into the hearts of the Capitol.

*******************

Finnick Odair was tired of being cleaned, polished, and dressed. He missed his small house that was close enough to the sea that you could smell the salt on the wind. He missed fishing at the crack of dawn and the sound of the waves crashing on the side of the boat. The Capitol was too quiet, too clean and too _perfect_.

He pulled at the neck of the suit - a clear blue that mirrored the sea at sunset and brought out the green in his eyes. He wasn’t looking forward to the interview, especially since Mags hadn’t given him much advice. She had been helpful in training and dealing with the other tributes, but the old woman had just shrugged when he asked about the televised interview. 

Perhaps he could ask her again. 

He walked out of his room, heading towards the living room with every intention on making Mags help him and finding some food. He didn’t expect much, but he didn’t expect what he found. Mags was sitting on the couch talking with someone new.

It was a woman, with long brown hair and olive skin. She was wearing a loose shirt that was so sedate that he knew instantly she wasn’t from the Capitol. He realized he had been staring when Mags waved him over. 

The woman stood, turned and Finnick felt his heart stop. Chatting and _laughing_ with Mags was Katniss Everdeen - the most famous tribute in the history of the games. He swallowed hard. Everything he had seen about this woman on the television was contradictory. She was an enigma and the Capitol loved her that way. 

Mags mumbled an introduction and Katniss held out her hand. Finnick reached out and took it, surprised at how soft the skin was even though her grip was strong. 

“Please sit down.” Katniss said, gesturing to the small couch across from her and Mags. Finnick obeyed immediately. He knew Katniss was not someone to just drop in for a social visit. 

Katniss didn’t say anything else for a long moment, just looking him over. It wasn’t the appraising look he had seen in many people’s eyes in the Capitol. There was a hunger in his Prep team’s eyes and a wanting gleam in his stylists. It was like everyone here was just waiting to eat him up. The look in her eyes was calculative, thoughtful, and just slightly sad. 

“Finnick. Mags tells me that you need help with your interview.” Katniss says, straight to the point. “I don’t know why. I am pretty sure you could say anything up there and the Capitol would fawn all over you.” She looks back over at Mags. “Are you sure about this?” 

Mags smiles back sadly as she stands and reaches over to Finnick. Slowly she strokes his cheek, and then she’s gone. Finnick blinks, more confused than ever. 

“What is going on?” He asks.

Katniss, who had been watching the old woman leave, turns back to him. Her eyes are dark pools, more intense than the darkest storms that ravage the coast. 

“She loves you very much. You know that right?”

Finnick’s eyes soften. “Yes.” He says. He loves her too. The woman practically raised him. His father was always so busy between running his fishing skiff and drinking that he ignored Finnick. Not that he minded; Mags had done good by him and he loved her for that. 

“That’s why she called me. For better or worse she wants me to help you win.”

“What about your own tributes? Aren’t you the District 12 mentor?” He asks, his head starting to spin with the information. 

“Haymitch is handling their interviews. I will be getting them allies and sponsors. Do not mistake me, they are my first priority and if it comes to them or you I will put the full weight of my influence behind my tributes.” She leans forward in her seat and Finnick instinctively leans back. “But if you are as good as Mags says you are...” She trails off, her eyes becoming sad again. 

Finnick squirms, uncomfortable with the dramatic shifts in her personality. “So right now, you are my mentor but that will change in the arena. I understand. Can we--” He coughs. “Should we talk about what I am supposed to do? I do have to leave in less than 30 minutes.”

Katniss smiles at him then, a bitter, hard smile. “You, Finnick Odair are going to charm the Capitol. They are already in love with you - the handsome boy with the sea-green eyes - but you are going to make them ravenous. I want you to smile, wink and flirt. I want women to be dreaming about you tonight so that they call Mags in the morning because they want to throw obscene amounts of money at you, just for the pleasure of looking at you one more day.”

“I -- what?” Finnick asks. “I don’t know how to do that!”

“Do you have a girlfriend back home?” Finnick shook his head. Katniss frowns. “A girl you are interested in?” Again, Finnick shakes his head. “Have you ever been kissed?” This gets a blush and only a blush. 

Katniss sighs, stands and holds out her hand to his. Finnick, red and embarrassed beyond belief follows her. She walks him into the bathroom and places him in front of the mirror. 

“You at least know you are handsome, right?” She asks. 

Finnick shrugs. “I suppose.”

“No. You are, and it is your greatest weapon. Even if you don’t know the right words to say, just smile.” She looks in the mirror expectantly. “That, was your cue to smile.” She says when Finnick doesn’t move. 

He does, but it is small and shy, which clearly annoys her. “Larger. Larger. Larg--oh.” She stops, and he finds her staring at him in the mirror. 

“What?” Finnick says. 

“Dimples.” Is all she says. Finnick doesn’t really understand, but he thinks it's a good thing. Before he can really question it, Katniss tells him to smile again and this time he smiles broadly, showing some teeth and he is surprised to find Katniss smiling back at him. 

“That. Just smile like that and Caesar will handle the rest. If he could make me look good, then you will be a show stopper.” With that she walks out the door. Finnick drops the smile and follows her. She had tried to hide it, but he had noticed the frown on her face. 

He wants to ask her about it, but Katniss is out the door before he gets the chance to. 

*******************

Finnick Odair had won the 66th Hunger games. At the age of 14 he was the youngest victor in the history of the games. 

He had won handily. It hadn’t been hard once the net and golden trident had fallen from the sky. He knew that the longer the games had progressed, the more expensive items were. Most tributes got things like food and medication, but he had received a weapon, and not just a weapon; the perfect weapon. 

He had thanked Mags, amazed that she had gotten so many sponsors for him, but she had just shaken her head and said “Katniss.” It had shocked him because when he had gotten the trident, there had still been one tribute left from District 12. 

He didn’t see Katniss again until the Victory Tour but her words and her actions had lingered with him as surely as the memories of the games. He really didn’t understand that woman, but he was sure she understood him. She had known what having that weapon had meant and how it would affect the games. She also knew what would happen after the games. 

_For better or worse_. That is what she had said. He hadn’t really had time to think the whirlwind of emotions that she had demonstrated during that visit, but he was beginning to get an idea of why she had looked so sad. 

Winning the games wasn’t really a victory. It sapped the victor of everything that made them human. He had locked away his compassion and emotions in the arena. He had to survive, but when the threat of death had been stripped away, all the locked up guilt and self-hatred had come pouring out. 

Each night was worse than the one before. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept through the night. His prep team had been horrified when they found the state he was in, but Finnick hadn’t cared. He just let them fuss over him to their heart’s content. He was anxious to get the tour started, not because he wanted to relive his nightmares, but because he wanted to see Katniss. 

Somehow, she would fix him. She had to, because she had known he would break. 

But when he pulled her aside and begged her to make the nightmares stop she just smiled sadly at him and said. “They never do.”

When he got back to the train, he felt drained. This was his life now and nothing would fix that. He threw himself on his bed, not realizing the small package on his pillow until it flew from the force of the impact. It hit him squarely in the face and Finnick almost threw it across the room in anger, but then he saw the color: it was silver, just like parachutes in the arena. 

Hesitantly, he opened it and found a small cord of rope and a note. 

“I find that keeping my hands busy helps and Mags says you are good with knots. Call me if you need anything. -K”

He only makes it to District 8 before he calls. 

*******************

_Eyes are watching him. They are always watching him and they are all hungry. They want to devour him, bleed him dry, kill him, save him, touch him. He runs. Bushes whip past him, smacking him hard in the face. He stumbles, feeling the eyes close in on him. There is a breath on his cheek, a warmth on his skin, a hand on his throat. Blindly he waves his arms about, finding a net and a trident in each hand. They strike flesh, peirce organs and break bones. The metallic taste of blood is on the air, permeating everything and drowning him._

__

_But no matter how much he fights the eyes are still there, delighting in the fight and eating away at his soul._

Finnick sits up with a start. His hand blindly reaches out to find his trident, but there is nothing, only the crushing weight of the dark and all the things that hide in it. Twisting, he searches for the eyes of tributes trying to kill him and being killed by him. He sees the pain in their eyes, the desire for both his death and theirs. He can’t breath, he can’t think, so he runs. The tangle of sheets trip him and he lands in heap on the floor - smooth save for the grains of sand that he always tracks in. 

Slowly, Finnick comes back to himself. The sea breeze air wafts in through his window carrying with it the scent of salt and storms. He feels the grit beneath his fingers as he pushes himself up and the small lump forming on his head. His arms wrap around himself trying to stop the shaking, but he needs to move, to get away from the dreams. 

Pacing, he walks through the house, even thinks about walking along the beach, but when he opens the door there is a ghost. He starts, shutting the door violently. 

“It’s not real.” He whispers to himself, but every shadow hides something. He can feel them watching him, waiting for him to sleep so they can finally take him. Stumbling, he falls into the kitchen, throwing on every light in the house and curling in on himself, sobbing.

*******************

“Katniss?” Finnick asks. It was late, and he knew that she was tired but Katniss always refused to hang up first when he called. It was something he appreciated, even though he knew how much it cost her. 

“Yes?” She says through a yawn.

“How do you do it?” She knows exactly what he’s asking. It's the same question he asks every time he calls and he’s been calling at least once a week for the last six months. How does she wake up every day? How does she sleep every night? How does she not lash out at everyone and everything? There are times when he can’t decide if he wants to hold Mags close or punch her in the face. 

No one really understands. No one can unless they’ve been in the games. 

There’s a pause before Katniss answers. “Is the rope not working anymore?”

Finnick looks towards the length of rope on his bedside with a half made knot still in it. He was experimenting with a new one earlier but got frustrated and decided to call Katniss. “Yes and no. It does help when I am alone, but when I am with everyone else...” 

Katniss hums in understanding and he can almost see her nodding her head. “They look at you like you’re broken.”

“Katniss,” He sighs. “I am pretty sure I _am_ broken. I just want to be...unbroken. I want to be like you or Mags. I want to be like Jackson and smile and enjoy my family again.” Jackson Browne was another victor from District 4. He was happily married with three kids. Mags had been married as well with four kids, 11 grandkids and him. They both had lives after the games. He wanted that too, not this perpetual, stagnant horror that he seemed mired in. 

“First off, I am not a very good role model.” He tries to protest, but Katniss doesn’t let him. “Secondly, Mags and Jackson went through their fare share of problems before they pulled themselves out of it, and even now they aren’t out, not fully. Jackson refuses to be a mentor because he gets flashbacks. He barely comes out of the tribute center during the Games. The only reason he comes at all is because it’s mandatory for the victors to be there. Mags...well you haven’t seen her yet when she loses a tribute. 

“Finnick, we all have problems. Some just mask it better than others. Some can’t deal with it and they hide in a haze of drugs and alcohol. You need to decide if this is something you can live with or not. But I will tell you now, it takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart. Don’t let yourself go Finnick.”

He lets her words wash over him. Thinking about it how her voice breaks as she talks. How long did it take for Katniss to put herself back together? How many times has she fallen apart? 

“Alright Katniss. I’ll try.”

He hears another yawn before a warm “Good.” And he knows she is probably smiling.

*******************

It’s three weeks until the reaping for the 67th Hungers Games. Finnick can see the changes in the district and in the Victors. The feeling in the Victor’s Village is heavy and subdued. He didn’t know if he hadn’t realized it because he had been young and preoccupied with his own silly issues or if he couldn’t understand what was happening because he hadn’t lived it, but now the broken edges of the Victors as clear as day.

Jackson holds onto his children tighter than normal, clutching his eldest the tightest. She’s going to be 12 this year. Finnick hopes that she will make it through the reaping unscathed - if she was chosen Jackson might not make it. 

Mags becomes very withdrawn. Growing up, he didn’t spend much time in the city around the reaping. It was the beginning of the tuna season and was one of the most profitable times of the year. His father would emerge from the bottom of his bottle long enough to get a few good weeks in with Finnick before the reaping. They would be at sea until the very morning of the reaping and then he wouldn't even get to see Mags until she returned from the Capitol. 

Finnick doesn’t even know how to handle it - going back to the Capitol, sleeping in the Tribute Center, watching 23 kids go off to die. A part of him wants to hide like Jackson does and not emerge until the end. 

“You could.” Katniss says when he tells her this. “No one would fault you for that.”

He sits on the porch of his large house in Victory Village, listening to the waves roll in. “You would.”

“No Finnick, I wouldn’t.” Her voice is warm compared to the cool summer night and he holds on to with desperation. With Mags lost in her own world, Katniss has become his main source of comfort in the last few days. He can feel himself slipping away at times, anchored only by her words and the rope.

“How did you decide to become a mentor?” He asks. Katniss sighs and shifts. He can hear the rustle of fabric and he wonders if she is lying in bed of she’s out looking at the stars like he is. 

“Vick.”

Finnick frowns, “Vick Hawthorne? Isn’t he only ten?” Through many conversations, he had learned that Katniss shared her home with not only her family, but also the Hawthornes. She never went into detail, only saying that “It was the least she could do” and that “She could never really repay them.” 

“Eleven actually.” Katniss says, “And at the time, he was barely six. Vick and I got close after...” She trails off for a moment before she coughs. “Anyways, I was struggling. My mother couldn’t reach me and Prim got through at times, but there was something about Vick that I clung to. We would walk around the town most of the day since he wasn’t old enough for school yet and I had nothing else to do. He saw others struggling and wanted to help since we had so much. People from District 12 have an unhealthy amount of pride, but a cookie coming from a six year old is hard to turn down. 

“Helping them, seeing the smiles on their faces when they got a cookie or a roll from Vick, made me want to help too. We couldn’t feed the whole town, but between my mother, Prim, and my winnings we could do something almost as good. We completely remade one room of the house, turning it from our dining room into a small apothecary. We used all our excess money to stockpile bandages, antibiotics, morphling, hard to find herbs - anything my mother might need to treat the wounded and the sick. We became the closest thing District 12 had to a hospital and _we made a difference_. 

“For the first time since the Games, I felt like I had a choice, like I could control something. I liked it, but when the Games rolled around all the life drained from the town. They were wounds my mother and Prim couldn’t heal but protecting the other kids was something I _could_ do. “

There is silence when she finishes. She had nothing left to say and Finnick doesn’t know how to respond. There is a strength to her story, a determination to her words that has been lacking the last few days. It is like a burst of color in the grey of his world. 

“Did you protect them?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. There hasn’t been a victor from District 12 since Katniss. 

“No.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Sometimes.”

Finnick bites his lip, realizing that ‘sometimes’ might be the best he can hope for.

*******************

The reaping is hard. After his talk with Katniss, Finnick decided that he wants to be a mentor. He wants to help, because if he doesn’t and he lets himself hide, he will never be able to crawl back out. Besides, he likes spending time with Mags and he knows this way he’ll get to see Katniss. 

It’s selfish, but this is as much for the kids as it is for himself. 

Coming back to the Capitol is hard. Harder than he thought it was going to be. Seeing the perfectly sculpted skyline with its clean streets in ordered rows with designed foliage and plants reminds him how detached the Capitol really is. This isn’t life and when he is here, Finnick doesn’t feel like he is really living. 

He watches the tributes as they try to be brave. He knows this is how he looked and he just hopes that they can find some type of inner strength. Neither of them were strong candidates this year. District 4, unlike District 1 and 2, don’t train their tributes. It’s true that they tend to be stronger than the candidates from the poorer districts like Districts 11 and 12, but that is only because they are better fed. There is a hatred that flows through the veins of the people of District 4. It’s as strong as the storms at sea and as constant as the tides. 

Perhaps it’s because they have the strength to hate, but when he was on his Victory Tour, the vivid malice he saw in the eyes of his friends and family wasn’t reflected in every other district. Most of what he had seen was defeat and it made his hatred of the Games and the Capitol grow with every blank gaze he had seen. 

When he had seen District 12, he had been amazed at how Katniss had come from such a place and how she could talk about it with such warmth. Katniss didn’t think about herself as a strong person, but he could see it, hear it, _feel it_ , every time he talked to her. 

It had been six months since he had last seen her and he couldn’t wait. He knew his first opportunity would come at the Tribute Parade and he was more than ready to dump his tributes off with their stylists and prep team. There wasn’t anything he could do for them right now anyways, not until he got them sponsors and Katniss promised to help him with that. 

He had told himself he could slip by the cameras, since they would be focused on the tributes and sneak to the tribute center, shower and catch up with Katniss before the Parade Ball - but that had been too optimistic. The second the train doors had opened, Finnick had been bombarded with questions. It was all he could do to turn the attention back to his tributes. 

Once inside their apartment he sighed, falling back against the door of his bedroom. He was exhausted. The shower could wait while he slept for a bit. Finnick fell onto his bed, pulling out the string and he traced his fingers of the knot until he fell asleep. 

*******************

“Finnick Odair!” Came a squeal of happiness. Finnick looked over at an unknown woman. He had slept up until the stylist came for him, throwing him in the shower and all but tossing his clothes at him. Dimitrius was his stylist from last year and thankfully appreciated his natural appearance, letting his hair curl as it dried and only applying a hint of makeup. It meant that getting ready for events like the Parade Ball were relatively painless.

That didn’t mean that the event itself was any less so. The squealing woman had attracted a few others who were fawning all over him. He was used to attention, more so now that he was a victor, but this was over the top. One woman even tried to slip her hand through his partially open shirt!

“Ladies,” Came a smooth voice that almost purred. Finnick blinked as his mind tried to place the familiar voice. All eyes turned and there was Katniss Everdeen. His mind reeled as he attempted to place the warm, comforting voice from the phone with the sultry, smoky words spilling from her mouth. “While I understand that it certainly is hard to keep your hands off a man as perfect as Mr. Odair, I will have to ask you to release him. I have business with him and a few other individuals would like to make his acquaintance.” 

The women pouted, and the hand in his shirt lingered, but eventually they left under the watchful gaze of Katniss. Finnick sighed in relief as she straightened his shirt. “Thanks Katniss.”

Her gaze softened. “You’re welcome. I am surprised you dared to enter alone. A second later and they would have whisked you off into some dark corner to have their wicked ways with you.”

Finnick paled. “They wouldn’t.”

Katniss stared at him for a moment, her eyes shifting between guilt, sadness and curiosity. “You still don’t understand the effect you have on people, do you?” She asked. Her tone genuinely surprised. 

“I, uh, no?” He knew he was fairly attractive. It was part of the reason that he had gotten so many sponsors and so many love letters in the last year, but this reaction was on a whole new level. Was his smile really all the powerful?

“Well, you will have enough women here stroking your ego tonight. I don’t need to be one of them.” She said playfully. She took his arm and lead him through the room. It was decorated in bright golds and reds, the colors of Panem, with screens littering the room so people could see the tributes as they rode through the main square. Here they could watch their tributes, listen to the commentary and begin scoping out potential sponsors. 

Finnick saw some more Victors scattered about the room, even Haymitch Abernathy was there, though he was sticking close to the open bar. Finnick turned his lips slightly at the man. Katniss caught his gaze and squeezed Finnick’s arm. 

“He’s a better man than you think he is.” She said. Finnick wanted to protest, but Katniss was already introducing him to a group of people. 

The night flew by in a blur of people and colors. It was hard to keep it all straight, but there were two things that Finnick would not be able to forget. The first was the way Katniss skillfully directed the conversations. She knew when to smile and when to frown. She knew who to compliment and who to ignore. She knew how to throw insinuations and insight rivalries. She was charming the crowd and making it look effortless.

The second thing that stood out was her ability to deflect women from him. It was almost as if her very presence was keeping them at a distance. He could feel their hungry gaze on him, but as long as he was with Katniss, he was safe. 

This woman on his arm, he realized was very, _very_ powerful. He had always known that she had an inner strength about her, that had become abundantly clear over the last year and from the games he had seen her prowess with a bow, but this woman was something altogether different - and he didn’t know if he liked it. She drew attention, and not all of it was good. 

Towards the end of the night, Katniss politely excused herself. It was the first time all evening that she had let him go and she left him with Haymitch. Some women had tried to approach, but Finnick wasn’t paying much attention to them. His focus was squarely on Katniss. She was talking to a man who, in Finnick’s eyes, was all too friendly with her. His hands were always touching her in very possessive ways and Katniss wasn’t doing anything about it. In fact, it looked like she was encouraging him. 

When the man’s hand strayed a bit too low for Finnick’s liking, he moved to intervene - it was no less than Katniss had been doing for him all evening - but Haymitch stopped him with a hand on his bicep. 

“Don’t.” Came the strong command. It was crystal clear, and entirely too sober sounding for how much Haymitch had been drinking.

“Why not?” Finnick spat disbelieving. How could Haymitch - her mentor - allow this to happen? 

“Because she’s working.” He said. He took another gulp from his glass of whiskey. “Haven’t you learned anything from watching her tonight?”

“She’s letting him grope her to get sponsors?” Finnick didn’t want to believe it. He turned his gaze back, but couldn’t see Katniss or the man any longer. He panicked, but Haymitch didn’t let him go. 

“We all do what we have to.” Haymitch said. “Let her go boy. This is something that you don’t want to get involved in.”

Finnick finally wrenched free from Haymitch, but didn’t go after Katniss.

*******************

The rest of the times before the Games followed a similar pattern. New information would come out about the tributes and they would go to balls, gatherings and dinners. Finnick would always attend with Katniss, and towards the end, she would let him try his hand at getting sponsors. 

They were constantly surrounded with people, so there was ample opportunity to practice. So far he had skirted by on his good looks alone, but that hadn’t been enough for Katniss. She wanted him to use his head too. 

As they floated from group to group she would start off, leading the conversation in a direction she wanted, then she would hand it off to Finnick. Gentle squeezing of the arm, whispers in the ear and once, an appetizer shoved right in his mouth, helped Finnick learn when he was going in the right direction and when he had made a social faux-pas. It was hard, but the tidbits of information that Katniss fed him helped immensely.

Finnick sighed, munching on a small quail leg during a brief moment of silence. “I think this training is harder than what the tributes are going through.” He eyed the group of victors in the corner longingly. They were drinking, laughing and being generally antisocial with the rest of the Capitol elites. He envied them.

Katniss followed his gaze. “Sorry, you won’t ever be able to fade into the background. If you want to keep your head above water, this is is how to do it.”

“All this because of my dimples?” He joked. “They are more powerful than I ever imagined.”

“Your dimples, your sun-kissed skin, your bronze hair, your gorgeous green eyes. I am afraid it’s the whole package. It won’t matter if you are standing over there with them, or here with me. You attract attention and you are still a boy. Just wait until you are a man.”

Finnick shivered playfully. “I’ll have to wear a suit of armor to these things in the future then.”

Katniss smiled back, but there was a twinge of sadness there that made him frown. “What do you think I am wearing?”

He felt like pointing out that she was wearing a beautiful red dress, but for some reason he didn’t think that is exactly what she meant.

*******************

The tribute from District 1, Augustus Braun, won. It was harder than Finnick realized watching his two tributes die. He had tried to prepare himself for it, but as soon as the girl died, he realized that it was impossible.

Mags had put a hand on his shoulder when the boy died and left the viewing room. He hadn’t seen her since. He finally realized what Katniss was talking about. Mags was taking it very hard. He wondered how much she had done for him last year to make sure he had made it out of the arena. He also feared what she would have done if he hadn’t. 

Finnick had stayed with Katniss and Haymitch until their last tribute died. One had been lost in the blood bath, but the boy had made it to the top 8, a pretty amazing feat given half of the final eight that year were Careers. 

With all of their tributes gone, the three had left. Haymitch proceeded directly to the bar to acquire alcohol and Finnick noticed how much heavier the man drank that night. Katniss went straight to the roof and Finnick followed. 

He had never been up here, but found it calming. If he squinted, he could almost see the stars past all the light generated by the city. Katniss didn’t say anything, just holding out a hand for him, which he took.

They sat in silence for a long time, and while Finnick was sad, he didn’t feel the need to reach for his rope. His hands were occupied with Katniss’ - his thumb trailed over the back, marveling at her warmth and softness. 

She was the rock in his life and he was holding on to her with every fiber of his being. 

“Katniss,” He asked, breaking the quiet. “Mags said you got me that trident and net, you helped me with my interview, and you’ve been helping me ever since. Why?”

She looks back over at him. The light of the city is reflecting in her eyes, making the dark pools shine. She looks older in that moment and Finnick wants to take back the question. 

“Mags asked me to.”

“And?” He prods. There had to be an ‘And’. He was realizing that there was a bond between the Victors - a deeply emotional one based on the horrors that they had all experienced, but that couldn’t explain everything she had done for him. She had given aid to another tribute even when she had two of her own to deal with. That was unheard of. 

“And...you reminded me of someone.” She says it with a hint of wistfulness and sadness and he thinks the shimmering in her eyes might be from more from than just the city lights. 

Finnick squeezes her hand to bring her back to the moment. “I bet Haymitch didn’t like you spending all that money on me.”

Katniss smirks and he’s glad to have gotten her mind off of her ‘Someone’. “Oh yes. He was furious actually.”

“Did he yell at Mags?”

“He wasn’t mad at her.” Katniss says. “He was mad at me.”

“For helping someone from another district?”

Katniss turns back to look at the city, “No. For what I had to do to get the money.” 

He opens his mouth to ask what she did, but the look in her eye has taken on a glassy sheen again. Finnick shuts his mouth with a snap. After everything she has done for him, he refuses to be the reason she cries. 

*******************

All too soon the games were over. There was no Victory Tour to look forward to this year. That meant it was going to be another year before he saw Katniss again. It was a heavy, angry thought. In that moment he hated the Capitol for not letting them travel to other districts. Everything seemed clearer when she was around and Finnick was not looking forward to hazy days and nightmare filled evenings. 

As he hugged her goodbye, Katniss lingered, holding him tightly. This made him frown, and when he asked if she was alright, she just shook her head. 

“It’s nothing, just realizing that you are growing up too fast.” This made him really confused, but she didn’t elaborate. She walked away, boarding the train for District 12 never looking back.

*******************

“And then,” Finnick laughed, holding the phone to his ear as he read over the letter, “Then she finished the letter with a giant lipstick mark! As if it wasn’t bad enough that the whole letter reeked of perfume!” 

Katniss laughed on the other end. It had been three months since the Games and Finnick was finding it harder and harder not to call Katniss every day. 

“I told you, Mr. Odair that you are too popular for your own good!” There was a twinge of something when she said that, but he waved it off. Whatever it was, the next letter he read would make up for it. 

“Should I read you the one that I am sure is from a little girl?”

“Finnick!” Katniss chided, “I thought you above cradle robbing!”

“I can’t help it! Soulful green eyes run in my family. Apparently my father had to beat women off with a stick.” It was true. His father often told stories about some of his more cavalier days when he wasn’t lost in the haze of alcohol. Finnick didn’t think he would ever be like that, but he had to admit, he was beginning to enjoy some of the attention - if only because it was so outlandish. 

“Sounds like my mother and Prim.” Katniss laughed. “Ever since Prim turned 15 it seems that every boy in town shows up at our door.” 

He heard a protest in the background and Katniss argued “It _is_ true Prim! You just don’t see most of them because Rory scares them off first!” 

“Do you think she’s figured it out yet?” Finnick asked. It was clear to everyone that Rory was head over heels for the younger Everdeen. The boy had been in love with Prim for a long time it seemed and had finally worked up the courage to make a move. 

“If she hasn’t I would be surprised. Rory isn’t exactly subtle.” They both laughed. “The other day, he went hunting and traded his catch for three Primrose cookies. When she thanked him he turned bright red. Poor thing didn’t learn anything from watching Gale. “

This caught Finnick’s attention. “Who’s Gale?”

All laughter from the other line stopped. There was silence for a moment and then, “What about you? Have you received any baked goods from town?”

The way she ignored the question completely made him want to ask it again. He had never heard her mention a ‘Gale’ before - not when talking about her family, not when talking about about the Hawthornes, or even the other people in District 12. 

He knew better to ask, but the name still stuck in his mind for the rest of the day. 

*******************

“You turn sixteen in three days, and you still haven’t been kissed.” Katniss said, her voice full of shock. Finnick was making dinner for one. His father was still at the docks and Mags was at a sick friends. He was all alone and he had instinctively reached for the phone. Now he was wishing he hadn’t. 

“Why are we talking about my love life again?” He sighed. It seemed like the topic of conversation often these days. Katniss was always prying, trying to get information about girls in the District Four who had expressed interest in him or who he might have his eye on. 

The current answer was no one. Sleeping was getting easier, but he still had horrible moments where he would be fishing and instead of spearing a fish it would be one of the tributes. Sometimes he saw them under the nets he was making, and other times floating in the water. He tried to jump in after one once, right onto some rocks. If Mags hadn’t grabbed him, he would have been badly injured.

No, he wasn’t safe to be around - not normal people at least. Mags understood, so did Katniss. That was why he spent most of his days with Mags, fishing and making nets and hooks or on the phone with Katniss. 

“Finnick,” Katniss sighed, “You were the one who said you wanted to have a normal life after the games. Dating people is what normal people do!” 

“You aren’t dating anyone!” He said. At least he thought she wasn’t. _What about Gale_ , his mind whispered. The boy she never talks about. The one thing that Katniss refuses to tell him.

“And I told you I am a horrible role model!” Her voice had taken on an edge. “Finnick, I just want you to enjoy your life while you can.”

This made him pause. There it was again, the note of sadness and anxiety. It had been there more and more often these days. 

“You make it sound like I am going to die tomorrow.” Finnick said, trying to lighten the mood. “I know that I can be clumsy, but that’s stretching it a bit.” 

“Clumsy in love maybe.” Her voice was light again, then she lowered it into a purr. “Do you need me to teach you how to flirt?”

Finnick rolled his eyes. “I know how to flirt.”

“Prove it.” She said. So he did. 

Two days later, when he called her, Finnick Odair was happy to report that he finally had his first kiss. 

*******************

Finnick’s hands were still shaking as he dialed Katniss’ number. President Snow had been here, in his living room not 30 minutes ago, _ordering_ him to sell himself to the people of the Capitol or else he would kill off a member of his family.

The way Snow had spoken, the way he had looked at him, Finnick knew that he would. 

“Hello?” Came a soft voice on the other end.

“Prim? Can I talk to Katniss?” Finnick said. His voice must have been shaking as much as he was because he could hear the concern in her voice. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked. He genuinely liked the younger Everdeen. They had talked a few times when Katniss wasn’t around and he liked to think they were friends. He didn’t want to worry her though, not with this. 

“Yeah, of course. I just wanted to see if your sister was around.”

“Oh, okay.” She said, but he knew Prim didn’t believe him. 

There was a shuffle as Katniss picked up the phone. “Finnick. What’s wrong?”

“President Snow. He was here.”

“When?” Katniss asked, her voice harder than he had ever heard it. 

“He just left. He wants me to--to--” Finnick couldn’t even say it. 

Something crashed in the background. He heard Prim say something before Katniss told her to leave. He had never heard her raise her voice at her sister before. 

“What did you say?”

“I couldn’t think, but --”

“You have to agree.” Katniss interrupted him. Finnick stopped shaking. Did Katniss Everdeen just tell him to whore himself out to the Capitol? 

“What?” Is all he could say. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Katniss who protected him. Katniss who always talked him down, who helped him stay whole, was telling him agree to Snow’s terms. “No! I can’t do that! I can’t --”

“Finnick.” Her voice was softer this time, but still held an edge of steel. “Trust me. The alternative is not worth it. Your pride, your dignity - they aren’t worth it. He will kill off your friends and your family but you can stop it. Just do it.”

She sounded exactly like Snow. “You can protect them.” He had said, with that smooth hiss of his voice. Finnick could still smell the blood and roses that lingered on the man’s breath. 

“I don’t know if I can.” Finnick whispered. His hand reached into his pocked finding the rope there. This was all too much for him. 

“You can Finnick. You already know how to do most of it.” And he realized he did. Katniss had taught him. She had taught him to work the Capitol parties. She had shown him how to touch them, how to excite them, how pit powerful enemies against each other to reap the benefits. And this last year, she had been pushing him to be with girls. She wanted him to learn to flirt and kiss, to attract women and make them feel special. 

Everything she had done had been for this: to make him a perfect puppet for Snow.

“You knew.” He bit out, his anger at her replacing his anger at Snow. “You knew that he was going to make me into a whore.”

“Finnick--” Katniss tried, but he wouldn’t let her speak. 

“NO! You have been training me for this all year. You never really cared, you were just manipulating me, making me ready for my coming out party” Finnick spat. How could he have been so blind? How could he have trusted her? 

“Finnick, please --” Her voice is strained, but he doesn’t care. Finnick slams the phone down, unable to even hear her speak anymore. It rings immediately, but he refuses to answer it. 

His fingers itch to make a knot but that rope was from Katniss. He can’t look at it, can’t bear the thought of it in his hands, let alone his house. In a fit of anger he throws it into the fire.

He doesn’t stay to watch the rope burn.

*******************

Finnick rolled his shoulder. The 68th Hunger Games were almost done. These seemed even harder this year. He still had Mags, but the protection of Katniss Everdeen was gone and every woman in the Capitol knew it. 

He had wanted to yell at them but that wasn’t allowed. He had to smile, flirt and be their every fantasy personified. It wasn’t easy, but at least he didn’t have preset appointments during the Games - no, any women he bedded during the Games would be because he choose to. 

The first appointment had been the hardest. He had almost refused, but one look at Mags had convinced him to go. He loved Mags and she was all he had left right now. Without her he didn’t know how he would make it through the days. 

The nights had been hard. He had glared at the phone. Sometimes it was even in his hand before he remembered he wasn’t talking to Katniss. She was the reason he was in this mess. She was the reason he hated himself more than ever, the reason he took showers but never felt clean, the reason he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror. 

He had only been called to the Capitol once before the Games started - a small boon, but one none the less. It seemed that everyone wanted to wait for when he was most desperate to buy his attention. They wanted to him to beg for their money and their time to save his tributes. 

And he did. He pouted, batted his eyes and even composed a poem for one woman just to get a few extra pieces of bread for his tributes. It hadn’t helped. The kids had still died. These games had been won by Duilia, a tribute from District 2. She had been deadly with a spear and too much for anyone but another Career. 

Tomorrow was going to be the live recap and then they could all go home. Finnick was looking forward to being at home again. He hadn’t thought the Capitol could could be any harder to but he had been wrong. This whole trip had been incredibly taxing. 

As Finnick stepped out of the elevator, he was immediately pushed back in. Haymitch Abernathy was there with Mags. She stood in front of him, with her back blocking him while Haymitch closed the door and hit the button for level 12. 

Finnick looked down at his small mentor and then at Haymitch. Mags was refusing to even glance at him but Haymitch was looking him straight in the eye. For some reason this irritates Finnick more than their hijacking of the elevator. 

“Something I can do for you Haymitch?” He asks, not even trying to keep the bile out of his words. 

“I don’t know boy, can you?” He drawls, his voice lazy as he scratches his chin. 

Finnick sighs. “I am really not in the mood for games.” This gets him an elbow in the gut from Mags. She turns and glares at him over her shoulder. Finnick lets out a small puff of air and rubs the spot. “What?”

“Katniss.” The woman mumbled. 

“What about Katniss?” Finnick asks, a tinge of worry in his voice. He know he shouldn’t have this knot of concern deep in his gut - he’s mad at her, furious - but it’s almost instinctual. 

“Fix it.” Is all she says. 

The door to level 12 opens and Finnick is pushed out by his tiny mentor. It’s clear from the way the two victors block the door that aren’t going to let him go until he talks to Katniss. He had been actively trying to avoid just that. He hadn’t taken her calls, refused to see her when she showed up at his door, ignored her at parties. He had heard the whispers and seen the looks that everyone was shooting his way, but he hadn’t cared. She had all but presented him to Snow with a bow on. 

He could try to push past the two, but then Mags would be even more angry with him and Finnick didn’t want to deal with that on top of everything else. So he turned and walked farther into the apartment. It would be best to just get this over with. 

“Her’s is the third door on the right.” He heard Haymitch call. 

He knocked lightly, but there was no response. He was tempted to leave, but he was tired of running. Here was his opportunity to cut ties completely - no more running, no more interference from others, just a clean cut. 

It _is_ what he wanted, wasn’t it?

Before he could second guess himself, Finnick opened the door and stepped through. He called out softly, “Katniss?”

She was there, sitting on her bed staring at the large screen on the wall with a vacant expression. It was a picture of woods in the fall, leaves even fell from the trees every few seconds. She was just watching it, clearly lost in a memory. 

It took him a moment to reconcile the woman in front of him with the one in his mind. Gone was the confident woman full of life. Her cheeks had a hollowness to them and the pallor of her skin was immediately noticeable without makeup. In the overly large shirt, she looked so much smaller than he had ever seen her. 

_Fix it_ , Mags had said. Had he caused this? 

Cautiously, Finnick sat down at the edge of the bed. “Katniss?” He tries again. 

She blinks and looks at him, her eyes coming into focus. “Finnick.” She whispers. “You came.”

“I didn’t have much choice.” He mutters, glancing back at the door. When he turns back, Katniss had drawn her knees up to herself. The shirt shifts as she clutches them and one olive shoulder sticks out. He can’t tear his eyes away from what he sees - the skin is littered with large, thick scars. 

“It's been almost five years.” She whispers, her eyes glazing over as she rests her chin on her knees. Her fingers play with the fraying edge of the shirt in a practiced manner. “Five years since I first met Snow and -- He sends a bouquet of roses every year - February 12th.”

Finnick frowns. He knows that’s not anywhere near Katniss’ birthday. It also has nothing to do with the Hunger Games or the Victory tour. “What happened on February 12th?”

“Snow killed Gale.” She whispers. Her hands move from the edge of the shirt to her shoulders. He sees the red marks from her nails as she claws the scars. “I was going to do it. I was going to go to the Capitol and, and...but Gale he begged me not to. He told me we could protect everyone and I believed him because it was Gale. But no one knew that Cray was gone and Gale took that stupid turkey to his house. When I got to the square there was already so much blood and Gale--He wasn’t moving but Thread just kept beating him. I tried to stop it, but _he wasn’t moving_. He--”

She was shaking now, and Finnick didn’t think, he just reached out and gathered her into his arms. He remembered her words. “The alternative isn’t worth it.” Is that how Snow operates? he doesn’t just kill your loved ones but he tortures them, makes you watch and then relive it every year? He always knew the man was cutthroat but even Finnick hadn’t thought he would go that far. 

If he had said no, what would Snow have done to Mags? Images of Mags flood his mind: Mags drowning because her legs were broken and him unable to resuscitate her, Mags bleeding out from an accident at the docks while he tries to stop the bleeding, Mags out past curfew and being beaten to death while he watches. He wouldn’t have survived that - and Katniss knew that.

Finnick sits there, holding Katniss until she is done crying. She had tried to get a few more words out but they had dissolved into tears and unintelligible mumbles almost immediately. As the body wracking sobs finally subside, Finnick feels her reach up and touch the wet spot of his chest from her tears. 

“Sorry.” She says into his shirt. Finnick smiles. 

“Don’t worry. I didn’t like this shirt anyways. It didn’t highlight my eyes enough.” He feels her laugh more then hears it. 

“Do you know I had hoped you were going to die in the arena?” Her arms reach around his waist and tighten. “I had known you were going to be popular, that you were going to be like me. I never wanted anyone to have to go through that. But you were so strong and Mags loved you so much...”

“So you got me that trident and net.” He whispered.

Katniss nodded. “And I am glad I did. It’s selfish - so selfish. You hurt so much and I am just glad you are here. Don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me.”

He didn’t. In that moment, for the first time in months he didn’t hate Katniss Everdeen. He hated Snow for putting them both through this and he hated himself for not listening to her - but not her. He realized in her broken mind that she had thought she was protecting him, that by letting him live his last two years in blissful ignorance that she was doing him a favor. 

And perhaps she had, but he still wish he had known. He wish she had _told_ him. 

“Just promise me, no more secrets.” He whispers into her hair. Katniss hugs him tighter, burying her face father into his chest. He knows she says something. He can’t hear it, but he does see the nod and that is good enough for him.

*******************

The months after the games are still hard. Both Finnick and Katniss don’t know what to say at first. They walk on eggshells, but they are talking. Finnick calls periodically and each call is easier than the last. He feels a part of himself uncoil and return to life every time she laughs, but he knows that she is still worried that he is going to cut her out of his life. 

He knows though that he could never really do that. Last time he tried he had died inside and she did too. They are too tightly intertwined to ever truly let go now.

He was glad to have her back, especially since the end of the games meant that he was back on the market for Snow. He would go to the Capitol for a week at a time and meet with a few people before coming back. Those weeks were hard, not just because of the appointments themselves, but because the Tribute Center didn’t have phones. 

Those nights, all Finnick wanted to do was call Katniss, hear her voice and let her comfort him but it was impossible so he started making knots again. Katniss had sent him a new cord when he confessed he had burned the last one. This one wasn’t as smooth as the last, but that would change the more he worked it. 

Katniss had appointments too, but they never seemed to match up. Finnick secretly believed that it was because Snow knew how important they were too each other and refused to let them meet. 

“Perhaps.” Is all Katniss would say on the subject, but Finnick thought she felt the same too.


	2. Interludes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys I would say here's the next part, but it's more of chapter 1a. I had written a bunch of moments that coincide with what is going on in chapter 1. Don't worry, I've already finished the next chapter and I'll be posting it once it's edited. I am planning to format most of the rest of the story like this: Plot development all from Finnick's POV and then a chapter with different character POV to supplement. Sorry if everyone was looking forward to what comes next, but I think that some of these moments are very important and I had fun experimenting with other characters. I tried to keep everything in order, so if follows the same timeline as the first.
> 
> Now, if this REALLY sucks and people hate it, I'll just stick with Finnick and his views on things. I just think this is fun and great for character development (especially with some of the stuff I am planning later on). Please let me know if it's too confusing or if the characters are to OOC. All can (hopefully) be fixed.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys like it and thanks for sticking around!
> 
> Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns everything.

She always hated the name Girl on Fire. It was the name the Capitol had given her but if Katniss could have called herself anything it would have been the Girl in the Woods. Katniss never recognized the Girl on Fire when she looked in the mirror, but she had known that girl in the shade of the trees with her braid and her father's jacket and her bow. That girl had been at home in the woods with her best friend. She was far from perfect - reckless, distrustful, and very rough around the edges. Her life had been hard, but still simple and good. She had carved out a place for herself and a home for her family.

The Girl in the Woods was gone and what was left was nothing like she used to be. Three years of parties, Games and appointments had destroyed the girl from the woods and replaced her with a shell, painted and made beautiful for the pleasure of anyone who had the money to pay. She echoed with dead dreams and brutal memories that carved out someone new - someone struggling to maintain a fire in her eyes.

Katniss reached out and grabbed the lipstick, applying a thick layer of red. She tried to shield away the last of her soul, to hide it away from their greedy claws, bolstering her defenses. They were fragile and weak from years of abuse, but they were still there. As long as Snow threatened her family she refused to let them fall completely. She would not become her mother.

Haymitch appeared over her shoulder. "Are you ready sweetheart?"

He hides behind his bottles most of the time, but tonight he is sober enough. He seems to know that she needs him. It's a sixth sense that he's always had and she knows she would have lost the fight a long time ago without him.

"Yes." She says, lifting the golden dress just enough not to trip on the train of lace. It was time to enter the fray and hope she came out the other side again. Every year another part of her slipped away. That's what the Hunger Games does: it takes every human part of a person and twisted it into something else - something maligned - and the Captiol takes pleasure in the metamorphosis.

She wondered what soul they would claim this, the year of the 66th Hunger Games.

***********************

The party was ostentatious and over the top as usual. Tables were filled with more food than the attendees could ever hope to eat and cups were brimming with every type of alcohol imaginable. A band played soft music in the background, but most weren't paying much attention to them. Tonight was not a night for dancing, it was the first evening of the Hunger Games and all eyes were on the Colonnade. Soon the this year's tributes were going to be paraded down the cobblestone avenue in whatever garish outfit their stylists had come up with this year.

Katniss sighs, trying to keep her mind on the conversation at hand. She was surrounded by some of the most powerful men in the country, all of which were patrons of hers. The wealth and influence of her clients did little to impress her since most of them were the Capitol's elite and she cared for the games of the Capitol as much as she did for the coal dust on her shoes.

These men however were worth listening to. They were the District Managers and held the life of all the people in Panem's twelve districts in their hands. They regulated how much food was distributed in the tesserae, when workers got new supplies for their operations, the flow of trade, and so much more. The attention of such powerful men should have shocked her, but over the years she had learnt the finer points of the Capitol's games.

It had started shortly after her first appointment with Marius Phillin, the District Manager of her very own District 12. According to the gossip, he had wanted her the second she rode down the Colonnade in her flaming dress. He had taken part in an wild betting pool with absurdly large sums of money, betting everything on her to win the Games. She of course had, and Marius had put most of his winnings into purchasing Katniss for a significant amount of time. He was still one of her regular clients and doted on her with an edge of desperation and possessiveness. His infatuation with her was plain to see and made her a target in his enemies' power plays. So she had been requested by some of Marius' colleagues, Remus Gellan, manager for District One and Tiber Hest for District Eight, mostly because they enjoyed watching Marius squirm.

"Katniss, you look ravishing!" Came a deep voice. A warm hand lands on her back, stroking the gold lace that hugged her curves in blatant hunger. It was a teasing dress designed to show nothing more than hints of skin as it covered her from the neck down. Her clothes were all part of the game, just as this covetous touch was - all designed to elicit visceral reactions from their prey.

Katniss smiles and turns, placing a kiss on her admirer's cheek. It was Lucius Soren, the District Four Manager. They have met privately before but he takes as much pleasure as being seen with her as he does behind closed doors. He has an addiction to gambling and uses her to his advantage when coaxing bets and wagers out of his colleagues. The bigger the bets the better, and many of them often included her.

"Lucius." Katniss says, letting his hand linger. She knows how this game is played. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Only you would use the words 'Lucius' and 'pleasure' in the same sentence." Remus barks a laugh. He was not a large man, making his overly deep voice seem out of place. "Come now man, let us know why you have come to bother us so that we may be rid of you faster!"

"Rude as always Remus." Lucius says but his words are playful. She knows the two have a strange relationship but she has never been able to define it. Their words and actions often contradict each other, the first being friendly and the later combative. Everyone wants to be the manager for District One, it is the most lucrative district with its export of luxury items and Lucius is no different. He coveted the position and it had almost been his. Katniss hadn't heard all the details yet, but apparently Lucius lost it due to his sister and some bad investments on her part.

"I was wondering if you lot had a chance to see the tributes yet. I have to say, I think the odds are in my favor this year." Lucius drawls, smirking over a glass of brandy. So he was here to gloat and goad. His hand on her back already had Marius seeing red. If she had to guess, he would be the first to jump at whatever wager Lucius had in mind just to get him away from her.

"You must be talking about that boy, Fino, Filk, oh what was his name..." Tiber says. Katniss knows he is purposefully misremembering the name.

"Finnick Odair. Who isn't talking about him?" Katniss whispers, letting her voice drift off wistfully. This earns her a glare from Marius and Tiber. Tiber is well known to be one of the most vain men in the Capitol, and rightly so; women of the Capitol swoon over him, desiring him for his physique and his fashion sense. Katniss however didn't see the appeal.

Lucius leans over and kisses her on the cheek. It was supposed to be a reward for playing the game like he wanted, but it made her want to retch.

"Don't tell us that you are enthralled with the boy as well?" Tiber grumbles. Katniss shoots him a secretive smile but doesn't say anything more. Finnick Odair had done nothing but stand there on the reaping stage and already the Capitol was buzzing with talk of the handsome boy. At 14, he still maintained some of his boyish looks but the potential was there: wavy copper hair, bright sea green eyes, and perfectly tanned skin. She feared what would happen after he had been polished and presented to them on a silver platter.

"If she is not, then she will be. I guarantee that the whole country will back my tribute once they see him riding the chariot."

This started an argument as to which victor stood the best chance. It was heated and Katniss purposefully egged them on. She knew that her small Seam children didn't stand much of a chance this year with four careers and the popular Finnick Odair. She hoped they had a quick death. She also wished one on the District Four boy.

The fever pitch that surrounded him now was nothing compared to what was to come if he was a victor. The Capitol would desire him, love him and then destroy him with their affections. She had lived it, caught up in their puerile games of power and avarice. She had been used to entertain, to distract, and to reward; and they all threw their wealth at her in an attempt to staunch the guilt they felt for using her body for their own pleasure. Death in the Games was merciful compared to the waking nightmare she lived.

The crowd murmured as the chariots rode out. Most eyes were drawn to District four's chariot. Finnick stood there like a young god of the sea. His hair was damp, his skin glistened like he had just emerged from the water, and the blue of his shirt made his eyes standout even more. The women swooned, all hoping for a glance in their direction.

The small group of powerful men began their game, picking apart the tributes and their rivals in equal measure. Katniss was largely forgotten in the war of words and slipped away. She didn't want to think about the beautiful boy and his future, it would make her break and she couldn't afford that right now, her tributes needed her.

She moved to grab a glass of champagne to wash away her thoughts, but a small, clawed hand brought them back full force. Mags Flanagan was staring straight at her, her gaze equal parts piercing and pleading.

"Help him." She murmurs.

"You don't know what you're asking." Katniss forces out.

Mags' hand tightens on her own. "Yes I do."

***********************

The sun was bright and the sea was calm. It was a normal summer day in District Four. Mags watched at the waves rolled in. High tide had brought the ocean so close that the water licked the rocky outcrop that she sat on. Down below her grand-kids played in the surf. School had been let out for the summer and with most of her children out at sea, she and one of her daughter-in-laws watched the kids most days. They ranged in ages from four to eighteen, but age didn't matter when a summer afternoon called.

Finnick used to be like that.

Mags pauses from the lure she making and glances back toward the Victor's Village. Finnick had changed so much since he had gotten back from the Games. Her younger grandkids hadn't understood and bothered the boy constantly, but the older ones tried to give him space. When she had come back from her own Games she had cut herself off from everyone, but she had been a bit of a loner before so most people had shrugged it off. Finnick had always been a social, tactile creature so his isolation had most people in his life worried her.

Not that his father noticed or cared much. How that man had raised such an angel was beyond her.

"Finnick!" Came the happy cry from Mags' youngest grandchild. Still dripping wet from the ocean Marie ran up to the nervous boy. Even from up here Mags could see the exhaustion in his every movement. Still, Finnick gave the girl a smile and let her lead him to a small castle she had been making in the sand.

"How is he?" Clara asked from next to Mags. She was an observant young woman and a good match for Mags' second son, even if there was a fairly large age gap between them.

"Bad." Mags mumbles, putting the lure away. She had a good amount already but enjoyed the act of making them. "Doesn't sleep. Doesn't eat. Doesn't see."

Finnick was lost in his nightmares. She saw the haze had walked through most days. It was like he didn't see the world anymore, just the Arena. The fact that he was even out of his house today was impressive. It meant that today was a good day.

Mags gathered up her lures and made her way down to the beach. She was immediately swarmed by some of her more enthusiastic grandchildren, she patted each of them on the head affectionately as she wove her way through the small crowd.

When she reached Finnick she could see the worry lines on his face and the deep bags under his eyes. He was trying so hard but the Games still clung to him tightly. Taking Marie's hand she held out the lures to Finnick with the other.

He stared at them and then smiled. It was easier than the first but still strained.

"Fishing?" He asks. "Alright." His words are cautious and uncertain, but he agreed and that was something.

Marie who had been watching him closely beams up at him brightly. "Yay!" She cries, reaching out her free hand to grab Finnick's. The bundle of energy pulls the two behind her as she tries to run towards her favorite fishing spot.

Finnick laughs behind the girl. The sound is rusty, like he hasn't laughed in a long time and Mags thinks he probably hasn't, but he was here and she knew from experience that was the first step.

***********************

_Thwack. Snap. Crack. Thwack. Snap. Crack._

_The sound is sharp and wet. She looks around, trying to identify where it's coming from, but the forest is empty. The sound echos over the crisp white snow, carrying with it a chill more intense than the winter air._

_Katniss hugs herself as she walks towards the sound, each step silent. There is only the sound, endlessly repeating. The fence is quiet, so she passes under it and is hit with an wall of noise. The cacophony is deafening - THWACK. SNAP. CRACK. She tries to cover her ears, but the sound reverberates through her being, physically forcing her down with every thunderous note._

_She stumbles forward, not sure if she's trying to get away from the noise or go towards it. The town looms ahead and she passes past the Hob, not realizing until she is surrounded that there are people. They stare ahead, not noticing her or the noise, their gaze transfixed on a point just beyond the crowd. Katniss pushes her way through and cries out._

_THWACK. SNAP. CRACK._

_Gale is tied to the whipping post. Each vicious swing rings through the square as it hits, stripping bloody chunks from his back. The ground around him is wet with rivers of his blood but the Peacekeeper doesn't stop. No one helps and Gale isn't moving._

_She can't hear her voice over the crack of the whip, but she knows she's calling out Gale's name. She is begging him, pleading with him to hold on, promising that she is going to save him because he's Gale and he is hers and she can't do this without him. She cries out that he promised to protect her, that he promised to protect his family and hers. Each step she takes towards him is a labor and seems to draw him further from her. No matter how hard she tries, how loud she screams there is only the sound of the whip as it hits his flesh._

_Thwack. Snap. Crack._

Katniss jerks awake. Her body shakes as much from the chill of the night as it does from the nightmare. She had flung off her blankets and her shirt is soaked through with sweat. She clutches the overly large shirt to her face and buries her nose in it, inhaling deeply. It's been years, but she can pretend that it still smells of wood-smoke, mint, and oranges. She can pretend that the residual heat lingering in the fibers is from his skin not hers. She can pretend that the arms that clutch her through the fabric belong to someone else.

Slowly the world rights itself. The shirt loses its magic and once again she is matter how long it's been the dreams keep the day bright in her memory. She'll never forget that sound as long as she lives. Was it the last sound he ever heard? A sob tears through Katniss as her mind conjures up the sight of Gale on the whipping post, the metallic smell of his blood as she buried her face in his shoulder and covered his body with hers. It had still been warm and she had thought she had saved him. She had endured every hit, every cutting blow, because she had refused to believe she had been too late. Even as she passed out from the pain, she had believed he was going to be there when she had woken up.

But Gale wasn't. There had been a head of dark black hair filling her vision, but when it moved it was Rory; Rory that looked so much like Gale. His grey eyes were red rimmed and he clutched her hand so tightly as he told her that Gale hadn't made it. Katniss hadn't believed it at first, hadn't believed it for days. She called out for Gale, but he didn't come. He didn't wipe the sweat from her brow and kiss her softly. He didn't materialize out of the shadows like he normally did. He didn't wrap Posy and Vick up in his arms at night and carry them off to bed, whispering stupid made-up stories about princes and queens. He was gone.

_Gale is gone._

Her mind fixates on the words and she feels the world slipping again. It's so much worse tonight - worse than it has been in a long time. Her failures were so real tonight because of _him_ \- President Snow. Their conversation earlier that day had been taxing; trying keep both her need to run and her desire to reach across the table to strangle him in check had drained her.

She had given up her very last point of leverage - the one man she had refused to sleep with, Nero Regus. He was one of the wealthiest men in Panem and had a lot of money tied up in President Snow's regime. He had requested her after the Games and Snow had of course given his approval. Nero was to have the pleasure of being her first appointment, of being the one to break her in. Gale had convinced her to refuse and he had paid for it with his life. Apparently watching the resulting destruction had been enough to satisfy Snow of her future compliance but he had never offered her again to Nero.

At first she had been surprised, but she knew the old snake well enough by now, he had wanted her broken but salvageable. Apparently his refusal to give her to Nero had caused some tension between the two men that lingered even now. By offering herself to Nero, she was giving Snow a way to patch up their relationship.

All that she had asked for was a few more years for Finnick. She knew that people were already clamoring to be his first appointment. The whispers had started right after he had received that beautiful gold trident. The Capitol wanted him and they wanted him badly but he was only 14. Technically that made him a minor and it was illegal to engage in sexual acts with minors, but she knew that wouldn't stop anyone in the Capitol. So she gave away the last of piece of her soul for two more years of peace for the boy. Finnick Odair would not have appointments until he was of legal age.

Katniss could still see the light that gleamed in Snow's eyes when she made the deal. He smiled his oily, snake smile and agreed. He had won more than he had lost. By making the Capitol wait, they would be willing to pay more for nights with Odair and she was now Snow's completely. It made her stomach crawl.

Her appointment with Nero was to be in two weeks, and Snow had made it clear to her that if Nero asked for her again, she would go. He was to be her priority; if she had other appointments, they were to be canceled. This was not a one time payment. Her breath caught in her throat as she thought about having to go back and having Nero touch her again and again and _again_.

Instinctively her hands wrapped around her shoulders, feeling the thick tissue on her back. She had refused to let the Capitol treat her wounds from the whipping and Snow hadn't pushed for it. They both wanted her to have the scars: Snow because he wanted her to remember her failure and she because it made her feel closer to Gale. It was the last thing they had shared and she couldn't let that go.

The phone rang, jarring her from her thoughts. If it hadn't been so late she would have just let it go, but she didn't want to wake up the rest of the household. The kids had school tomorrow and needed their sleep. Quickly and quietly Katniss padded down to the kitchen picking up the phone.

"Hello?" She asks, her words still thick with tears.

"Katniss?" Came the smooth voice on the other end. It shook slightly but the soft baritone washed away all of her own worries. The world snapped into focus and her mind latched onto his words, his voice, his problems.

"Finnick, what's wrong?"

"I...Do the dreams ever stop?"

Katniss thinks back to her own nightmares. She could lie to him, but it wouldn't help. Haymitch had never lied to her and she appreciated that. "No." There was silence on the other end. "Do you want to talk about them? Sometimes it helps." She thought about the times that she would fall into Prims arms, sobbing Gale's name. She never went into detail, but having someone who knew and who shared her pain helped.

"...It was the Arena..." He starts. Katniss settles in, letting his pain become hers. She was always on the verge of breaking but she held on for the people that needed her. Tonight that was Finnick Odair, and so she let her own ghosts fade and took on all of his.

***********************

The phone rings and Prim stares at it for a moment with wide eyes. She shoots a surprised glance across the table at the two Hawthorne boys. Vick and Rory were both working, Rory was glaring at his math homework and Vick was absorbed her mother's Book of Plants. They had both stopped dead, staring at the phone with the same wide-eyed look as she did.

It was the middle of the day and Katniss was gone. She was the only one who answered it, mostly because every single call was for her. There were only two types of calls: the calls that came at night that kept Katniss up until dawn and the calls that came during the day that took Katniss to the Capitol. Prim wasn't a fan of the later, but the former had her interested. She had come down a few times at night to find Katniss asleep with the receiver still in her hands.

Whenever Prim had asked, Katniss deflected the question. It was making her curious - more than was healthy. Her mind spun with conspiracy theories and fantastical stories - most of which were blown even more out of proportion by Rory. The stories he told were so over the top that they brought a smile to her face. Actually, a lot of things he did brought a smile to her face most days.

The phone rings a few more times and Prim can't contain her curiosity. Vick's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. "You're going to answer it?"

"Of course." Prim says. "It's rude to just let it ring."

"But-" He says, but she doesn't listen and picks up the receiver.

"Hello?" She asks, hoping that the person on the other end isn't mad Katniss isn't here. It's a small worried part, but a larger, louder voice tells her that she is being ridiculous. If they need to talk to her sister that badly then they could just call back later.

"Hello." Comes the response. It is slow, the two syllable drawn out in a cautious drawl. It's a pleasant voice, young and about her age. "Is this...Primrose?"

"It is." She replies, shocked by the recognition. "Who is this?"

"Finnick Odair."

" _Finnick Odair_. The victor Finnick Odair?" He was all over the television. Recaps of his games and the Victory Tour, interviews with the people of District 4, and speculation over everything from what he was going to wear to if he was going to mentor aired almost continually the closer they got to the Games. It reminded her of the time after Katniss had won.

"Are you the one who keeps calling late at night?" The question is out of her mouth before Prim can stop it. One hand comes up to slam over her lips as she tries to keep the words in but it's too late.

A warm chuckle on the other end breaks down the last of her nerves. "Yeah, sorry. I don't wake you, do I?"

The concern is evident in his voice and Prim decides right then and there that she likes him. "Sometimes, but I go right back to sleep. It's not a problem."

"I'm glad to hear that." Finnick says. "Sometimes I'm convinced Katniss won't pick up the phone because she's unplugged it. I know I call a lot."

"Katniss would never do that." She says automatically, but then thinks about it. "Actually, she might, but she won't. I think she likes talking to you."

"Really?" This seems to shock the boy and Prim doesn't understand why. "I thought she was just putting up with me."

"Katniss has a very low tolerance for people she doesn't like. If she didn't want to talk to you she wouldn't. Besides, you call at night and..."

"Yeah," He whispers. "She told me. I don't know if I'm glad to know I'm not alone or sad that she is in the same boat as me. Was it-what I mean is, has she gotten better?"

Prim bites her lip. Airing Katniss secrets felt wrong, but if anyone would understand what Katniss had gone through it would be another victor. Besides, this was the first person outside of the family and Haymitch that she was willingly talking to. If it helped her sister in any way, then Prim welcomed it. Katniss had taken on too much on her own - as usual - and Prim hated watching her sister struggle and being so powerless to stop it.

"Yes - or she could just have gotten better at hiding it. She's always been good at keeping things from me." For years Katniss had skipped meals, made backdoor deals, and broke the law on a daily basis to keep Prim and her mother fed. She never complained, never showed weakness and never, _ever_ let Prim go without if she could help it. It was maddening, but it had convinced Prim that Katniss was the strongest person in the world. Then the Games happened. They had should shattered every perception she had of her sister - the crippling fear, the tears, the nightmares - but Katniss had come out the other side and that took an inner strength that most people didn't have.

"That sounds like her. Does she ever let anyone take care of her?" He asks. Prim looks up at Vick who has gone back to reading the book of plants. _She let Vick help_ , a part of her whispers jealously. Prim could heal broken bones, break fevers and deliver babies, but she hadn't been able to help her sister, her most important person.

"We _are_ talking about Katniss. If she's conscious she'll avoid it. That's just the way she is. Just watch, soon she'll be mothering you as much as she does us."

"Is it bad that I am looking forward it?" Prim can hear the smile in his voice. She laughs. Finnick might be a victor, but he still maintained a sense of humor and that was amazing in and of itself.

"No. Being loved by Katniss is a special thing, so you had better appreciate it!"

"Trust me. I do." His voice sounds far off and wistful. Prim decides that she really, really likes him.

***********************

"No." Katniss says, looking over Finnick's appearance. She pushed him back into his room, glaring daggers at his stylist. It was three days into the 67th Hunger Games and each day his stylist had been growing more and more bold with Finnick's clothing choices. He was only 15 and still a boy. She had given up a lot to keep him that way and she refused to let his stylist dress him up like a sex symbol.

Finnick blinks, looking down at his suit. He was wearing a navy jacket that shined as he moved and matching trousers. The jacket buttoned once at his stomach, but it was the lack of a shirt that made Katniss furious. His chest had been coated in glitter and left exposed to the hungry gazes of the Capitol. She was already having a hard enough time keeping women's hands off the poor boy when he was fully clothed. This was just ridiculous.

Rummaging through his dresser she throws a green button-up shirt at Finnick and a silver tie. He puts it on obediently, glancing back and forth nervously between his fuming stylist and Katniss. Let the purple painted man say one thing, one single protest, she dared him.

"Let's go. We're already late." Katniss says, leaving before the stupid man got one word out.

Finnick runs up next to her, trying to do his tie as he walks. "Where are we going."

As soon as they were in the elevator, she is pushing his hands to the side as she redoes the sloppy knot at his neck. The boy was a magician with rope, but a tie seemed to be beyond his skills.

"We have been invited to a private dinner at Lucius Soren's estate. You won him a lot of money last year and he would like to meet you."

"Who?" Finnick asks, confused.

"Lucius Soren, the District Manager for District Four. He basically controls your District, making him one of the most influential men in the Capitol. I would say you should be honored, but tonight is just going to be annoying." She sighs, running a hand over her long braid. Her trademark hairstyle is made fancier by the ribbon winding through her dark locks. It matches her long black velvet dress that is trimmed in the same blood red silk.

She sees Finnick pale slightly. "Don't worry. He's easier to deal with than your usual horde of fans. He has a huge ego and will expect you to be appropriately in awe of him, so just agree with whatever he says."

Finnick nods, but she can see his nervousness. It doesn't ease throughout the car ride, and she is sure it increases when he sees the District Manager's large manor. It was actually small by Capitol standards, but what it lacked in size, the house certainly made up for in lavish decorations. Luxuriously thick carpets lined the halls, bejeweled trinkets and grandiose paintings covered every surface. District Managers inherited their house and this one had been owned by every District Four Manager for the last fifty years. It was appropriately decorated with items from the district or themed around the sea.

The two are escorted into a large dining room with a hand-carved wood table as the centerpiece. The natural beauty of the contrasting grain and swirling whorls was covered with a garish embroidered tablerunner of blue and silver. Finnick frowned at it openly, making Katniss smile. At least the boy still had some taste.

"Katniss." Lucius says, standing and kissing her hand. His hair is yellow this year, highlighting the dark fish tattoo that trails down the side of his neck. "I have missed you. It has been too long since our last appointment."

She tenses at the word, but has been a long time since they had seen each other for business and his use of the term means that this visit had certain expectations surrounding it. The question was what he was looking for exactly: information, pleasure or both.

"Lucius." She says letting her tongue curl around the word, drawing out each syllable. The gleam in his eye tells her that he enjoys it. "I was surprised to get your invitation."

"And why would that be? You are always so busy, I jump at every chance I get to steal you away."

Katniss raises an eyebrow. He certainly thought he was stealing her since he often skirted around her usual fees. She put up with the arrogant man because he understood that she wanted something else from him besides gold and gems - she wanted information, secrets about the Capitol and the more damaging they were, the better. He gave up the information more readily than his gold and amused himself with the outcomes of his 'slips'.

"I was under the impression that you wanted to meet with Finnick. I assumed I was just here as an escort of sorts."

He leans over and kisses her cheek, whispering in her ear. "You are never 'just' anything my dear."

So he was expecting something more physical from her tonight. That wasn't going to happen, not while Finnick was here. She slips from him with a smile and reaches for Finnick's hand. He takes it gratefully, squeezing it for reassurance. He is out of his depth here and they both know it. The people at the parties have been insignificant compared to Lucius. His power was intimidating and Lucius knew it and often wielded it as a weapon.

"Where are my manners? Finnick, this is Lucius Soren. The District Manager for Four and heir to the Soren empire - if he ever decides he wants to leave politics and go back to the private sector."

"Never!" He laughs, gesturing them over to the table. As with most dinners at the Capitol, it is ladened with food - mostly fish - and bottles upon bottles of wine. "Why would I do that when the political game is so much more interesting and the company has proven to be superior?"

"Lucius and I met at a political gala about two years ago." Katniss starts, but Lucius cuts in.

"Two years and three months." He says, smiling at her. "I remember it vividly, as with most of our nights together. You are a hard woman to forget."

Her eyes narrow at the golden haired man. He was laying it on thick tonight. Lucius smiles at her widely before turning to Finnick.

"So Finnick, how are you finding the Capitol? A bit different being a victor instead of a tribute I bet."

Finnick coughs, swallowing his food. "Yes, it is. There are so many things to see, but I think I like your home the best. It is...comforting." He shoots a glance at Katniss and she nods encouragingly. He was stroking Lucius' ego and engaging him in conversation. It was everything she had hoped for the evening. Tonight was good training for Finnick. Since it was just the three of them he could start getting used to talking to society's elite without the pressure of layers of etiquette and politics weighing over him. If he was going to survive here, he would have to learn to control his interactions, no matter who it was with - otherwise he was going to be pulled in every direction until he fell apart.

"I am glad you approve. I hope that you and I will become close friends." Lucius says, his voice dripping with sugar. He clearly wanted an alliance with Finnick - not that Katniss was surprised, she had suspected as much when Finnick received the invitation - and he was using his so called 'good graces' with Katniss and his home to soothe the boy.

"Is that normal?" Finnick asks, looking at Katniss.

"Not always. It depends on the District Manager and the victor." She says.

"Are you close with your District Manager?"

"Close?" Lucius barks out a laugh. It is a deep and genuine and it's honesty shocks Katniss. "Marius dotes on Katniss. She has the man wrapped around her finger, but you could say that about most of the Capitol. We just can't help ourselves when it comes to our Girl on Fire."

"I've noticed." Finnick mumbles and Lucius' jaw drops and he starts laughing. Finnick looks at the man sharply, his curious gaze darting back and forth between Lucius and Katniss. She just shrugs. It had been the truth.

"He certainly has taken after you - very blunt and keen. I was concerned at first that he wouldn't be able to handle the Capitol's ethos, but then you stepped in. Katniss, I don't know if you are aware, but your mentorship of Finnick is all anyone is talking about. Most think it's adorable, but I am truly grateful. We wouldn't want Finnick to lose his way." Lucius places a hand on Finnick's shoulder. It is supposed to be a friendly gesture, but it just makes the victor tense. "It's important to know who your allies are and I know that Katniss will steer you in the right direction. She has an eye for these things."

"I am trying but mentoring our tributes always comes before social calls." She says, letting a bit of her irritation color her words.

"Speaking of tributes. What do you think of this year's crop?"

"Truthfully, little and less of yours this year. Mine are not in better shape. If you are looking for a winner, it is going to come out of District One." Lucius frowns at her answer. Katniss takes a small thrill of pleasure at his sour expression. It was not what he was looking for. He and Remus always put a lot of money down on the Games and Remus almost always had Careers, so they were a safe bet for the District Manager. Lucius often had to look outside his own district tributes and her information had helped him a great deal in the last few years helping him win more than he lost.

She hated talking about the tributes like that. It made something inside of her darken and die, like she was becoming more like the people of the Capitol. Their twisted view of the world and blatant disregard for human life was stain that clung to a person worse than coal dust. No amount of makeup or beautiful dresses could hide their sins.

"Any black horses?" Lucius asks hopefully.

Katniss thinks about the others. "District Two has some promising kids - both are older and clearly strong, but if you are looking for a plausible long shot I would put money on the female tribute from District Five. She is playing weak, but I would guess she has some spirit. She'll make the Final Eight at least."

Lucius nods, the wheels in his mind turning. "As always, your insights are greatly appreciated. I'll consider it. If she ended up going that far, the winnings would be substantial."

He asks her more about the tributes, even bringing Finnick into the conversation for a bit. He pries every bit of information he can about the children from them: How long they think they'll last, what the victors think of their looks, how they think the tributes will interview, what training scores they might receive and more. Any information he may use to make wagers. The Capitol was all about the Games and the betting pool surrounding it was almost as cutthroat as the Games themselves- any edge he could get would go a long way. Lucius had won and lost a lot of bets over the years and in the last few he as won more than he has lost - thanks in a large part to Katniss.

"I think that is all we can tell you Lucius." Katniss snaps. She has given him more than enough information for the night.

He sits back satisfied. "It is more than enough. As always, if I win, I will buy you something beautiful."

"I have more beautiful things than I know what to do with."

"And most of them pale in comparison to you my dear." He smiles at her and she sighs internally. Flattery got him little and less with her, but she would never tell him that. It would be an affront to his delicate ego.

Lucius started talking about an art exhibit he had seen recently and prattled on about some upcoming social events, inviting Finnick to a few. It was all idle chatter, but she was happy that Finnick was handling it well. His nervousness from earlier had finally eased and he was actually incredibly charming.

The meal ended and Lucius stood with a genuine smile on his face. Finnick had impressed and Katniss knew that Lucius was mentally calculating every advantage he could gain from the boy. Still he would be a valuable ally for Finnick - his first - and there were worse people out there.

"We'll have to do this again sometime." Lucius says, shaking Finnick's hand.

"Agreed." Finnick replies and Katniss can tell that he is happy to but also exhausted.

"Next time we'll have to make it more of party." Katniss cuts in before Lucius can say anything else. "You'll have to invite some of your friends so I can introduce them to Finnick."

Lucius' eyes narrow. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

"A few." She shrugs non-committedly. "I'll send you a list." This list would include some of his business associates, some powerful backers that have been known to back District Four tributes before and some people she wanted to meet, specifically Marcius Arrina.

Arrina Incorporated was one of the three main security corporations that functioned in the Capitol. Peacekeepers were essential to keeping the Districts in line but they only had a minimal presence in the Capitol. They tended to deal with petty thieves and parking violations but the safety of the elite fell to private bodyguards. They were the best of the best and were appropriately expensive.

Bodyguards were a precious commodity and Arrina Incorporated had just secured a contract with the President himself. Exclusive rights to guard the Presidential manor and him personally. Not only was Marcius now a very popular and powerful man, but he had access to a wealth of information and information was her currency of choice. She was out to gain enough leverage to protect herself and her family if it ever came to that.

So if Marcius Arrina was going to be supplying all the men and women protecting President Snow, she should get close to him. Imagine all she could learn about Snow. She had already learned a bit about his rise to power, but most of it was just rumor. She needed to have concrete proof if she wanted to have something to hold over his head and Arrina might just give that to her. It likely wouldn't be enough to get her out of her current predicament, but she needed something after giving up Nero.

Lucius was a known associate of him, providing her an in with a man who otherwise out of her reach. After everything she had done for him tonight, the District Manager owed her. If he refused, she would cut him off and he knew it.

He kissed the back of her hand with a tight smile. "I look forward to it."

On the ride home, Finnick kept giving her strange looks. "What?" She finally asked.

"Is it common for them to offer to buy you things?"

She snorted. It was unlady like and she loved the way the derisive sound felt in her mouth."Oh yes. I'd be drowning necklaces and dresses if I accepted every gift."

"Why?"

"They are paying for us." She says, words tasting like acid in her mouth. "They try to buy us to ease their guilt."

"About the Games?"

"Something like that." She had already said too much.

Finnick coughs, catching on her sudden tension. He was getting good at that. "So how do they pay you then, since you don't accept their gold and gems?"

"With secrets." She whispers, her mind already drifting towards her meeting with Marcius Arrina.

***********************

"Finnick!" Prim says. It had been ages since she had grabbed the phone before Katniss. "How are you?"

"I am great. You sound happy today, did something good happen?"

Prim glances over at Rory. He is pretending to be paying attention of what Vick's saying, but his eyes keep darting to her. She smiles at him, waving her fingers at him. He blushes and looks away. She can't help giggling. He made teasing him too easy.

"You called. Isn't that enough?"

Finnick laughs. "Katniss is right, you are turning into a maneater. If you are as pretty as your sister than I worry for the male population of District 12."

"Flatterer." She knows he's joking, but she still feels heat in her cheeks. She didn't want every man in District 12, just one and he was being very stubborn - cute, but stubborn. "But isn't that the pot calling the kettle black? Once you get started no woman in Panem will be safe."

Finnick groans. "Seriously? Has Katniss been complaining to you too?"

Prim smiled into the phone. Katniss had been overly concerned lately with Finnick and the lack of love in his life. She wanted the boy to enjoy his childhood - a drastic change from her approach to Prim. The first boy who had come to the house asking for her had all but run away in fear. Katniss had griped for three days about how he wasn't good enough for her Little Duck. She has since stopped, mostly being amused at the boys. Prim was sure it was because Katniss had picked up on Prim's crush on Rory.

Now if she could get Rory to pick up on it, that would be great. There were days she was tempted to just kiss the idiot, but she was genuinely concerned that he would pass out from all the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"She's just worried about you. Katniss doesn't let just anyone in, and now that you are, you are doomed to suffer her over protective nature like the rest of it. It is a blessing and a curse."

"I shudder to think what your life would be like without Rory. Has that boy asked you out yet?"

Prim glances back over her shoulder, but Rory isn't paying her attention anymore. "No. It's frustrating."

"I'd tell you to up your flirting but you might kill the poor boy." Finnick laughs and Prim smiles.

"You can give me advice once you have more experience than I do."

"Ouch! You Everdeen girls are killing me! What do I need to do to get you off my back?" He pauses and then - "Does that mean you've been kissed? Does Katniss know about that?"

Prim pales. "I don't know what you are talking about. I am as pure as flower."

She can feel his devious smirk through the phone. "Primrose Everdeen! What would Katniss say if she learnt that you were keeping secrets from her?"

"Nothing, because you won't tell her." Prim says with a decisive nod.

"Tell me what?" Comes a low female voice. Prim drops the phone and turns around with a squeak. Katniss is standing right behind her leaning comfortably against the kitchen table. Her sister is too good at sneaking up on her, even after all these years.

"Nothing." Prim replies quickly, stepping to the side as Katniss picks up the phone.

"Finnick." The older Everdeen says quickly, eyeing Prim with disapproving eyes. "What isn't Prim telling me."

He must have not told her anything because Katniss glowered, but her eyes still held a spark of amusement. "Really? And why would I believe you."

Prim sighed in relief and sat down next to the Hawthorne boys. "That was close."

Rory glances up at her. "What was?"

She waves him off, watching her sister. It's like she can see the exhaustion falling off of Katniss like a cloak. The dark cloud that hangs over her is lessened and when Katniss smiles Prim knows that it is genuine. Does Finnick know? Does he understand how hard it is to get under Katniss' skin?

Gale slide into her heart slowly and deliberately. He snuck up on her just like he did rabbits in the wood. By the time Katniss had realized how deep he was, she was already trapped in his snare. She had vowed never to fall in love, yet there she was, shot through the heart by one of Gale's arrows. No one had been surprised when Katniss confessed her feelings for Gale or his for her. It had been years in the making - neither had been good with words but everyone had seen it in their actions.

Prim wondered how long it was going to take for Katniss to realize how deep Finnick already was.

"You're smiling." Rory says and Prim blinks and realizes that both the Hawthorne boys are staring at her.

She blushes and looks away. "Well, I am happy."

Maybe this time Katniss could find the happiness their father had always preached about.

***********************

"Katniss?" Vick asks. She looks up and smiles at him, but it's weak and pathetic and they both know it.

"Yes Vick?"

He shuffles his feet and looks at her with dark brown eyes. At thirteen his all awkward limbs and bony elbows. "Are you going to sleep soon?"

The sun had set a long time ago and she had sat on the porch, watching the orb fall behind the skyline and darkness set in. She hated the night time because night meant sleep and sleep meant nightmares. She had new ones now filled with a copper-haired boy and all the things she knew he had to do - all the things she hadn't saved him from.

He would look at her from his back with his bright green eyes filled with betrayal and hate. "You did this." He would whisper. "You gave me to Snow. You made me his whore." She would try to look away but never could.

"No Vick. Probably not."

"Okay then." He said and sat down next to her on the stairs. He didn't say anything else and together they watched the sun come up again.

***********************

Prim dumped the bucket of water on Haymitch's head. The drunken man sputtered and fell out of his chair, one hand brandishing a large knife. He glared up at her from the floor and she glared right back.

"What is wrong with you Everdeens?" He sputtered, pushing his hair back from his face.

"Apparently a lot." Prim hissed. She slammed the bucket down on the table in front of her and jabbed her index finger into his sternum. "It's Reaping Day and you are going to take Katniss to the Capitol and you aren't coming back until things are fixed."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

"I don't know!" Prim yells, throwing her hands up in the air. "Think of something, anything, because Katniss is at a breaking point and I don't think she'll be able to put herself back together again."

Prim swipes at her eyes, refusing to let Haymitch see her cry. He's a good man, she knows that, but he's also a selfish drunk.

"She's that bad?" He asks as he right the chair.

"Yes." Prim bites out. "And you'd know that if you could see past your bottle."

Katniss had lost weight. She hadn't slept in ages and swings between bouts of paranoia and extreme detachment. Everyone can see she is struggling, standing at the edge of a precipice and trying not to jump. She hadn't had a choice after the Games and Gale - she had fallen right off the edge. She wasn't there yet, but one more push and she would be.

"Alright." Haymitch says. "I'll fix it. I told her that boy wasn't worth it."

"He is." Prim says firmly. "He made Katniss smile once so he was worth it. He will be again once you _fix this_."

"Sheesh." Haymitch gripes as he walks out the door, not even bothering to put on a clean shirt, "You Everdeens and your expectations. I'm not a miracle worker you know."

"You are today." She says grabbing her bucket and heading home. He had to be.

***********************

Haymitch watched Katniss as she smiled at the men fawning over her. Everyone was watching her tonight, sharks that could smell blood in the water. They had noticed the conspicuous distance between her and that damn golden-boy. Worse, when Katniss had tried to approach him, Finnick Odair had been as polite as decorum called for, but looked at her like she was dirt.

Katniss hadn't said much to him concerning what had happened, but Haymitch could fill in the pieces. He wasn't surprised, he had told Katniss not to bother with the boy. Finnick would have learned how to survive or not, he wasn't her responsibility but the stupid girl had gone out of her way for him anyways. He would have expected her to have learned her lessons after the last time she tried to defy the Capitol for a boy. He had to admit though, watching her with the boy over the last two years was like watching his Girl on Fire. There had been a spark in her eyes and and a determination that he hadn't realized he missed.

Growling Haymitch downed the rest of his drink. He didn't know who the bigger idiot was: Finnick Odair who blamed Katniss for his predicament, Katniss for not explaining it to the boy sooner or himself for getting in the middle of it.

Haymitch walked over to his tribute - she would always be his _tribute_ just like he would always be her _mentor_ \- and took her by the arm. Katniss didn't protest, just let him lead her away. They took the car back to the tribute center silently and he walked her right into her room and pushed her into the bathroom.

"Shower and get changed. When I come back, I'm bringing Odair and you two are going to talk."

Katniss blinked and looked back at him frowning. "What should I say?"

"Everything. You want to keep your pet peacock then you better be willing to lay it out on the line."

She nodded. "Thanks Haymitch."

He waved her off. "Don't thank me yet. I've got to get the boy up here in the first place."

To do that, he would would need some backup in the form of a stubborn old lady. Mags was equally displeased with the boy - it had been written all over her face at the gala. If Finnick didn't listen to Haymitch, then he was sure as hell going to listen to Mags. If that didn't work, then Haymitch was going to knock the idiot out and drag him up there unconscious and trussed up like a turkey.


	3. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys, thanks to those who left reviews and stuck around. Here's the next part of the story (the part where the plot actually progresses). I hope you all enjoy it. We are moving into the romantic part of the story, so if anything this is where their characters really start to deviate from canon. Please let me know if you think anything is too out of place. I struggle a lot with romance, but I am trying to get better at it. And I know I don't focus a lot on Finnick's emotional issues with being used by the Capitol, but this chapter is all about his feelings towards Katniss and that development.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins

“Rory finally asked Prim out.” Katniss said. Even through the receiver he can hear how pleased she is with this. 

“Really? How long did it take him - three years?” Finnick laughed. He was happy for them though. Prim was a good girl and Rory sounded like he would treat her like she deserves. 

“Longer.” Katniss sighed. “But in his defense he wanted to wait until she couldn’t be reaped. I think he didn’t want to lose her.” Finnick could hear the unspoken “like I lost Gale.”

They talk about Gale sometimes. He knows that Gale and Katniss were hunting partners and that they helped each other survive after the death of their father’s in a mining accident. He knows that Gale made Katniss smile all the time and that he called her ‘Catnip.’ Finnick _loves_ the nickname and hates that he won’t ever be able to call Katniss that. He knows that Gale practically raised his younger siblings and helped Katniss raise Prim. 

Gale had been a good man. It was easy to see why Katniss had loved him so much - still loves him. That thought sticks in his mind, eating away at him. He shouldn’t care, but he does. 

“So that makes two kids through the reaping. A few more years and they will all be safe.” Finnick says, trying to reassure Katniss. She hums in agreement. 

“Until Prim and Rory have children.”

Finnick frowns. “Not you?”

Katniss laughs bitterly. “Can you imagine me with children?” Yes, his mind answers. Yes he could. He could see her walking with them through the woods, teaching them to climb trees and reading to them at night. Two kids - one boy and a girl with dark hair and green eyes. 

Finnick swallows, changing the subject. “The reapings are next month. Will you be mentoring again?”

“Always. You?” 

“Yes. I won’t let Mags do it alone.” He hesitates, “I could use some help getting sponsors.” It was a lie, he just wanted her company, especially after last year. The Capitol was so much easier to handle with Katniss there. 

“Sure.” She says. “I’ll bring my armor. You’re admirers are dangerous Odair.” He laughs. 

Only one more month until the Games. 

He hated how excited he was about that.

***********

Finnick sighs as he walks to Katniss’ room. They were going to have to work extra hard to get sponsors this year. The reaping had been rough. His tributes this year were so small. The boy, Michael Burk was a skinny little thing and only 13 and the girl, Annie Cresta looked more like a rabbit than a person. She was pretty though, so maybe that would earn them some points. Katniss’ tributes weren’t much either. He didn’t think any of them would make it, but it wouldn’t stop either him or Katniss from trying to help anyways.

He doesn’t knock before he enters, just walks in and throws himself on the bed. 

“Looking forward to tonight?” He hears her ask. 

Finnick rub his hands over his eyes. “Just the shower afterwards.” He wasn’t ready to fend off his multitude of admirers. 

“Come on Finnick.” Katniss says, and this time she’s closer. “Time to put on your game face.”

He peaks out past his hand and for a moment he stops breathing. Katniss is wearing a strapless golden dress that shines softly like candlelight. It is beautiful, but the real effect is when she turns. The glaring scars from Gale’s whipping stand out on her otherwise unblemished skin. They are so large that no cosmetics that can cover them and it is clear that she doesn’t want to.

She is wearing her battle wounds like armor. 

Finnick sits up, “You are something else, you know that right?” Last year he was worried that he had broken her beyond repair, but she had simply been reforged into something tougher - again. He never really knows how she did that. He envies that. Everytime he broke, he only felt more brittle. 

Katniss smiled at him then, the coy smile she reserved for the Capitol. She reaches down, drawing her finger down the expanse of skin showing from under his unbuttoned shirt. The warm digit follows the lines in his neck, travels over his collarbone and down the valley of his chest until they meet resistance. She pulls then, and he follows, standing. Even with her heels he now stands a full head taller than her but size doesn’t matter, she is in complete control of him. 

“I have to be, to keep up with you.” She purrs and it is completely disarming. She turns and walks away, breaking the moment but Finnick still can’t move.

***********

Finnick blames hormones, _has_ to blame them to explain how Katniss is affecting him. At 18, he knows he’s a raging bundle of teenage angst wrapped in a pretty package because if he’s not, that means he is falling for his best friend - or at least lusting after her.

Something had changed between them after last year. Holding her as she cried in his arms made him realize something: he never wanted to let her go. It was like a barrier between them had been shattered. He wanted more than just the gentle warmth of her words on the other end of the phone, he wanted her there with him, holding him. He wanted her fingers to run through his hair and feel her breath across his skin when she laughed and when she sighed.

Then the other night, when she touched his chest he almost lost it. If she had lingered there for another second he thought he might have kissed her. His logical mind knew she was playing with him, that she viewed him as a friend and _only_ as a friend, but his other brain - the lower, louder one - disagreed. It fueled his dream’s dark corners and filled them with visions of hungry kisses. 

He felt guilty, thinking about her as so many in the Capitol did, but it was at least tempered with respect and genuine appreciation for the woman behind the coy smile and quick words. It didn’t stop him from pushing the boundaries of their relationship: hands on hips instead of arms, words whispered close enough to feel her ear beneath his lips, dancing chest to chest - all in an effort to have her closer and ease the ache in his chest.

She was a drug and he couldn’t get enough of her. 

Katniss sat on the couch, deftly pulling off her heels. The look of pure relief on her face attested to how painful they had been. Finnick sits next to her, picking up her feet and placing them in his lap. She gives him a curious look, but doesn’t protest.

“You wore those tonight just so you could get a massage.” He says, giving her a cheeky smile - dimples and all. 

“I have no idea _what_ you are talking about Odair.” She says, closing her eyes and letting out a moan of pleasure as he works his thumbs into the pads of her feet. It’s a sound he’s decided should be illegal. 

“Now don’t lie,” He laughs, knowing that it is deeper than he had hoped. “You just wanted my hands on you.”

“I _have_ heard that they are magical.”

“Everything you’ve heard? True. All of it. You should feel honored that I am even gracing you with my presence.”

This gets a laugh out of Katniss. “I don’t know if you are living up to your reputation Odair. I have been around you all night and I have yet to be reduced to bundle raw nerves, barely able to hold myself upright because my body is flooded with unrestrained desire.” 

He digs his fingers in deeper and she gasps as he works a knot out before melting into the pillows of the couch. “I guess I’ll just have to work harder with you.” 

“Keep doing that and you won’t have to work that hard.” She whispers and the words go straight to his groin. He knows he’s brought this torture on himself, but he can’t get himself to stop. 

“Don’t tempt me.” He purrs. He feel Katniss’ eyes on him from underneath her lids - curious and heavy, but neither say anything else, letting the weight of his suggestion and hands linger untouched.

***********

The games come to a shockingly quick conclusion. Annie Cresta, Finnick’s small rabbit-like tribute has won the Hunger Games. He, like everyone else had been sure she was doomed. After Michael had died in front of her, she had a complete mental break and hidden for the rest of the games. This of course didn’t sit well with the Gamemakers and they had tried to flush out the tributes with an earthquake. It was too powerful and it broke a dam, flooding the whole arena. The only reason Annie made it was because she was such a great swimmer.

She had been a mess during the live recap. Finnick looked on with Mags and Katniss. “How is she going to move past this?” He asks, not really expecting an answer.

Mags shakes her head and puts a hand on his arm. “You’ll think of something.” She mumbles. 

Katniss watches Annie for a moment. “Just be there for her. That’s all anyone can really do.”

Finnick isn’t sure how to do that, but suspects starting with a length of rope is as a good place as any.

***********

“How’s Annie?” Katniss asks. She always asks that question. It’s been almost a year and Annie has made major improvements, but she still has a hard time staying in the present.

After the Games, Finnick dove into helping Annie find herself again. She was so lost - so broken - that some days he had felt he was getting nowhere, but Mags and Katniss told him to persevere. Annie’s family moved in with her to the Victor’s Village and they tried to help her, but his was the only voice that seemed to reach her. So he stayed, holding her hand and bringing her back to the world of the living. 

It had been an all consuming task and it had taken his mind of Katniss and the tactile nature their relationship had developed during the last Games. With distance between them and his preoccupation with Annie, his raging teenage hormones seemed sated. 

“Not great,” Finnick says, adjusting the phone. He falls back into his bed. It’s late and he is tired, but he needed to talk to Katniss. “Annie had a relapse today.” Relapses with Annie meant lots of screaming, shaking and clutching to Finnick. Usually he can whisper a few reassuring words to her and then walk her through some mental drills that Katniss used to help her escape from the visions, but sometimes Annie gets stuck in the past and it can take hours to bring her back.

“Are you home?” Katniss asks. Sometimes he stays over at Annie’s house, to help her get through the night, but he hopes that tonight she is too tired to dream. 

“Yes.” He says. If she did need help tonight he didn’t think he would be able to offer any, he was exhausted. Besides, he needed sometime to reset himself. Dealing with Annie was challenging, often bringing back memories of his hardest moments in the games. But it was also rewarding - watching her come back to herself helps him too. 

Over the last year Finnick had learnt that Annie Cresta is something special. She is a very bright, funny, innocent woman. If the word ‘pure’ could be personified, it would be Annie. She often makes him laugh and smile. When she is having a good day, no matter what, Finnick is having a good day. Everything about her is infectious and he genuinely enjoys being around her. 

He knows the feeling in mutual.

“Katniss,” He whispers, running his hand through his hair, “I think Annie might be in love with me.” It is the first time he has voiced this out loud and speaking the words has given it certainty that he knows is true. 

Katniss is silent for a moment. “Is that a bad thing?”

That wasn’t the response he was expecting, but it makes him think. Is it a bad thing? Annie is pretty with her wide green eyes and red hair. When she is happy, they sparkle like the sun on the sea. She often makes him feel lighter and happier when she is around and he looks forward to seeing her. 

He envies her innocence. He lost that long ago, even before the Capitol got their hands in him. If Annie is the sun, he is the shadows, hiding all the things that go bump in the night. Annie didn’t kill in the Arena while he murdered with an efficiency. Annie hasn’t had to sell her body to the Capitol while he is dirty and used. One time, he was so scared to touch her because he was worried that he would taint her. 

“I don’t know.” Finnick says, because truthfully, he doesn’t.

***********

Finnick walks along the beach well past sunset. He needed to get his head on straight. Today he had been out with Annie and when she smiled at him, he reached over and kissed her. It was spur of the moment decision but Annie had been so captivating that he just done it. Her response had been to beam at him and he thought the sun had come out.

It was so perfect and _she_ was so perfect. 

So why did he feel uneasy?

A shuffle of feet alerts him to another’s presence and Finnick turns to see Mags walking towards him. She’s getting old and the walk is a bit harder than it used to be, but she sits down at the edge of the waves and lets them lap at her feet. Lightly she pats the wet sand next to her and Finnick can’t help but join. 

She doesn’t ask why he’s been walking on the beach, brooding, but he is sure she has an idea. 

“What should I do Mags?” He asks. 

“Are you happy?” She mumbles, slurring the first two words together. 

“Yes.” He says. And when he kissed Annie he had been. It had been warm and sweet and he had almost done it again. 

“But...” Mags says. 

“But...” Finnick says, trying to identify exactly what the problem is. “But I don’t know why there is a ‘But’.”

Mags nods and leans back, her feet burying in the sand. She looks so young and innocent in the moonlight, and Finnick can almost forget that she is pushing 80. He never likes thinking about her age. He wants her to stay with him forever. 

“Is this love?” He asks. Mags shrugs. 

“Maybe.” She says. 

“How do you know? If it’s love, I mean”

Mags then starts talking about her late husband, Brian Flanagan - how he made her feel whole, how he kept the nightmares at bay, how he made her forget about the games. She talked about how she never wanted him to leave and how she always came up with excuses to see him. How her heart beat faster just thinking about him. 

“But most importantly,” Mags says, sighing, “I wanted a future with him.”

Finnick had never had a chance to meet Brian. He had died a few years before Finnick had been born - cancer, they said. Mags didn’t talk about him much, but when she did, her whole face lit up. 

“I wish I could have met him.” Finnick says. Mags smiles at him and reaches over to pat his knee. 

“Me too.” 

She gets up then and leaves Finnick to his thoughts. He watches the waves roll in, farther now that it’s low tide.

He thinks about Annie and a future with her, but every time he tries to imagine it he is taken back to an image of two children, one boy and one girl with dark hair and green eyes.

***********

Annie hides in the Tribute Center for most of the Games. Finnick doesn’t blame her. While it’s customary for the previous winner to give a few speeches and interviews, Finnick works to draw the attention away from her. It only takes a few well placed smiles and compliments to attract the cameras.

When the parties start, Finnick asks Mags to stay with Annie while he goes to get sponsors. The woman nods, always happy to not have to attend the events. He is glad that he won’t have to worry about either of them and he can focus on his job - and Katniss. 

Finnick swallows and adjusts his suit. He remembers the way they touched last year, how it excited him and made his heart race. He had blamed it on hormones, but now he was confident it was something else - something more.

He is in love with Katniss Everdeen. 

It was a terrifying thought, but also thrilling. The realization had crept up on him. The more he had thought about Annie and the more he tried to be with Annie, the more he thought about Katniss. At first, it had been a passing comparison between the two; Annie had reached out for his hand and he had noticed how much more delicate she was than Katniss. It wasn’t a bad thing, and he hadn’t thought about it much at the time, but then he had started comparing the two in everything. It even got to the point that a kiss with Annie made him think about kissing Katniss. He would wonder what her lips would feel like, what she would taste like, if she would take control or let him lead. 

It had lead to many sleepless nights in his room, staring at the ceiling while his hands were busy working knots. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why he was comparing the two until one night when Annie had kissed him and whispered “I love you.” He had been shocked. Not because Annie had said it, but because he wondered if Katniss would ever say that and he realized he wanted her to. He wanted her to say that to him _desperately_ ; to hear her whisper the words over the phone, to gasp them out in a fit of pleasure, to say them with affection as they laughed about something trivial. 

He wanted Katniss Everdeen to love him because he loved her. 

The realization had hit him like a ton of bricks. It took over his every waking moment. He relived every moment with her over the last few years and was amazed he hadn’t realized it before. He thought of the future and how they could make it work. It wouldn’t be the future he had always thought he had wanted; he wouldn’t have a wife to hold every night, children’s smiles to chase away his nightmares, but it would still be exciting. They would have a handful of stolen moments and secret rendezvous that would burn bright in his memory, holding him over until their next one. 

It made the feelings he had for Annie seem superficial. He would always care for her and he would always protect her from everything, even herself, but he wanted more than warm kisses and bright smiles. He wanted a give and take, to be on equal footing with his partner. He wanted someone as passionate and stubborn as him, someone who could make him laugh and blush, someone who could turn his whole world around with a word. He wanted someone to hold through the night and be held by. 

No matter how he looked at it, the only person who could give him everything he wanted was Katniss and to get her he was going to actively pursue her. Wiping his hands on his pants, Finnick opened her door, ready to try to make Katniss Everdeen fall in love with him.

***********

The Tribute Parade had been a success and the party had gone as well as usual. Finnick and Katniss had meandered through the crowds, manipulating the Capitol’s most powerful into giving more money and more promises to their tributes. He felt confident that he had secured ample funds for the early sections of the games. He wouldn’t be able to get more until the training scores were released in a few days.

The frown on his face and the shift in his stance was due to his lack of ability to flirt with Katniss. Finnick had stared at her small smile and cascading hair and lost all ability to speak. It was like the realization of his feelings for her had made it impossible to form a coherent sentence when he was around her. All his resolve had flown out the door and he had fallen back into their normal routine like a coward. It had made the gala bearable, but standing with her in the elevator, he felt the weight of his feelings crushing him.

He needed air. Reaching over, he pressed the button for the roof when the elevator reaches level four. 

Katniss raised and eyebrow. “I thought you were tired.”

“I am.” He said. “I just, uh...” He trails off cursing and reaches into his pocket for the small length of rope there. 

Katniss frowns. “Finnick, what’s wrong? You have been acting strange.”

The elevator stops at the 12th floor and he half hopes that Katniss will get off so he can get his head on straight again. He needed to re-group, figure out how to confess to his best friend that he was head over heels in love with her and convince her that a future with him would be worth it. Most of all, he needed to figure out how to convince her that this time it would be different. He wasn’t going to be her next Gale. 

Katniss was strong, but he knew that she was also terrified. After Gale’s death she had put everyone at arm's length. Prim had told him once that the year after the Games had scared her - she had thought she was going to lose her sister. She didn’t mention anything about Gale, but Finnick knew that his death had only made it worse. Katniss had been scared to lose anyone else, so she had shut herself away. What brought her back was Vick, Gale’s youngest brother. The boy had dogged Katniss, always asking for stories about Gale and her in the woods. He had missed his brother more than anyone and was using Katniss to feel closer to him. The two grieved together and eventually Katniss began to talk to the others again. 

It was why Finnick’s friendship with Katniss had come as a surprise to everyone in District 12. Finnick remembered the first time he spoke with Prim. Their family hadn’t had much use for the phone, so it had almost never ringed until his Victory Tour. She had been determined to find out who kept calling and had thoroughly interrogated him when she had finally gotten to the phone before Katniss. By the end of the call, Prim had decided that she approved of Finnick. 

He hoped she still approved of him if he became more than Katniss’ friend. 

The elevator door closes and Katniss is still there, staring at him as it ascends to the roof. Finnick knows that he isn't getting out of this. He could lie, but he and Katniss know each other too well - she would spot the lie in a second and he really didn’t want to lie about this. After the fiasco a few years ago, he had made her promise that there would be no more secrets between them and so far there hadn’t been - as far as he knew. Starting with this one wouldn’t bode well for any future they could have together. 

When the elevator door opens, Finnick all but runs out the small compartment. His mind is a mess of possible ways to start the conversation. How do you tell a woman as complex as Katniss that you love her?

He is startled when Katniss places a hand on his arms, stopping his frantic knot making. He hadn’t even realized he had pulled out the rope. 

“Is something wrong with Annie?” Is the first question out of her mouth and it almost makes Finnick laugh. 

“No,” He says, “Annie’s fine - well, was until we had to leave for the Capitol. I think she’ll be better once we get back home.” There, a topic of conversation that he could handle while he willed his brain and tongue to work together. 

Katniss nods at this answer, but still looks worried. He shifts the rope in his fingers. That is not the look he would like on her face when starting a conversation about love and romance. Why is this so hard? He knows how to talk to women, how to charm them out of their pants with just a smile. 

“Is it,” She starts, then gestures with her hand as she tries to find the words. It made him glad to know that he wasn’t the only having issues. “Does it have to do with kissing her?”

That made him stop. “How did you know about that?”

Katniss looks to the side. “Mags. She said you asked her for advice on it and...other things.” 

Finnick is surprised. Katniss looks hurt by this. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

She waves him off, but he knows this has upset her. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me about your relationship with Annie if you don’t want to.”

“Katniss, it’s not like that.” He reaches for her, but Katniss takes a step back. She leans against the banister looking out over the city. The space she has put between them seem so large. It’s a void that hasn’t been there in years. 

“You always talked about having a future - getting married and having children - Annie would be good for that. She’s -”

“It wasn’t just one kiss.” He interrupts. Katniss stops and finally turns back to him. Finnick swallows. “There were more, and everytime I tried to picture that future with her. Our days would be full of sweet moments and at night, I would drive her nightmares away. It always seemed nice, so I would kiss her again. Then I would go home, and I would struggle. I would work my knots and reach for the phone to call _you_.”

Finnick took a step towards her, closing the gap with each word. “You’d answer in that breathy, half-asleep voice and my nerves would settle. I never think about Annie in those moments, just you. When I am with you, even just talking to you, everything clicks. I am a broken man and you are a broken woman, but together we are whole. That’s something Annie can never give me.”

He was standing before her now, staring into her dark eyes. They seemed to pull him in, and he refuses to be the first to look away. This was it, the moment of no return. “I don’t want a future with Annie, I want a future with you.”

“Finnick,” She breathes. Her brow furrows and he can feel the rejection coming. 

“Please,” He begs, putting every bit of hope into his words. He reaches up and tucks a stray lock behind her ear. “Please just think about it.”

She nods and Finnick reaches down to brush his lips across hers. This maybe his only chance and he has kiss her, at least once. She tastes like the champagne and chocolate they had at the ball, but she feels like a dream. There is no lingering sweetness, just a heat that shoots through him - Girl on Fire indeed. 

He is glad he did it, it was something he had spent many nights dreaming about, but he is also angry with himself because now that he knows and he will always want more. He wants to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close. He wants to bury his hands in her perfume scented hair and pull out every pin that keeps the thick locks back. He wants to kiss her until her lips were red and her cheeks flushed. He wants to melt her with the same heat that had consumed him. 

But that won’t win Katniss Everdeen and this is a game he _had_ to win. So Finnick pulls back and leaves her alone on the roof with her thoughts.

***********

The evening of the interviews comes quickly. Finnick hasn’t had a chance to see Katniss in three days. His days have been full of tributes, sponsors and random parties while his nights have been haunted by the feel of Katniss’ lips on his. Exhausted is too light of a word to describe how he feels

As usual, he is immediately swarmed by women - some he has slept with and some he hasn’t. Each gets a moment of his undivided attention, a few sweet words and smile. They fawn and fan themselves and Finnick feels himself easing into a rhythm. Compliments and innuendos flow from his lips like wine - intoxicating and sensual. 

He is laughing at something a potential sponsor says when he catches Katniss out of the corner of his eye. She’s talking with Haymitch and Marcius Arrina, head of Arrina Enterprises. He knows that Arrina is one of her appointments, often calling on her multiple times a year. Finnick tries to shake off the image and focus on the woman in front of him, but when Arrina kisses Katniss’ hand, he can’t stop himself. 

“Excuse me.” Finnick says, shooting the Capitol woman a beaming smile. She blushes and nods her head. He is glad she lets him go easily or else he would have just left and that would not have looked good. 

“Haymitch.” Finnick says as he approaches. The three look at him and Finnick has to school his features. He bows his head slightly to Arrina. “And Mr. Arrina. A pleasure.”

“Mr. Odair.” Arrina says, inclining his head. Finnick notes that he refuses to let go of Katniss’ hand. 

“Katniss.” He breathes, reaching over to take her free hand. He kisses the back, lingering a moment longer than necessary. “You look beautiful tonight.” And she does, making the words effortless. He knows that the make up, the dress and the attitude are her way of protecting herself so he has never voiced his opinion on them, but often when he sees her the words “stunning”, “breathtaking” and “riveting” are on the tip of his tongue. 

Finnick finds it is easy to let his words out, easier than it had been the other night. He didn’t know if it was the fact that all the cards were on the table but he found didn’t want to stop his words. He had been holding back what he has wanted to say to her so often when he should have been voicing them. Maybe if he had been telling her exactly what he thought about her for the last four years she might have been more responsive to his advances. 

“Thank you.” She replies, her eyes slightly weary. 

“It is almost time for the interviews to start, and I wanted to catch you before they began.” He lies smoothly. He glances at the Capitol man, and down at the hand he is still holding. “I hope that I might steal her for a moment. I have a wager going with Licinius Barr and I am afraid that Katniss is the only one who can settle it.”

Arrina’s eyes flare, their fake golden color burning hot with anger in the artificial lights. Licinius Barr was the head of Barr Security, a bitter rival of Arrina Enterprises. It is well known that the animosity between the two companies stems from their CEOs. Any mention of one or the other is often enough to set them off. 

“Really?” He drawls, “And just how can Katniss settle this wager?” 

Finnick smiles, sensual and mocking at the same time. “If I told you that, it would ruin the bet.”

Arrina snarls something before stalking off, most likely to find Barr - not that Finnick really cared. Free of the distraction, he is free to do what he wanted since he had seen Katniss. His arms slips around her back, resting on the bare skin there. He would really have to thank her stylist for tonight’s outfit. The daring halter left almost her entire back exposed all the way to curve of her bottom. 

She tenses for a moment and shoots him a glare, but Finnick just smiles back - dimples and all. His touch is light, giving her an out if she wants it, but Katniss doesn’t move. The glare then is more likely about Arrina than Finnick’s bravado. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this last year, but then it had been almost innocent, not it was heavy with intent and they both knew it. 

Haymitch whistles and Finnick tears his gaze from Katniss. “I don’t know if that was smooth or stupid.”

Finnick shrugs, “Arrina and Barr already hate each other. What’s a little extra fuel for the fire?”

Haymitch laughs, pulling out a flask from his jacket. “I wasn’t talking about that.” He purposefully looks across at Finnick’s hand before smirking. “Just, keep your hands where we can see them. We have enough on our plate without the women of the Capitol trying to kill Katniss.” 

He walks away and Finnick shakes his head. That is as close as an approval from Haymitch as he knew he was going to get. Over the years, Finnick had come to understand why Katniss respected the old lush as much as she does. Besides being fiercely protective of her, Haymitch also was smart, perceptive and almost never nearly as drunk as most people thought. He plays the Capitol as well as Katniss does, and that is a huge compliment. 

“If he’s anxious about this, I don’t want to know what he has to say about the other night.” Finnick murmurs, shooting Katniss another dimple-inducing smile. 

“Oh, he had a lot to say. Some of it, made me concerned for your safety.” Katniss says, her tone tight. 

“Should I be worried?” Finnick says, some of the worry in his voice is all in jest, but some isn’t. 

“Less worried than I should be about your admirers.” 

“Katniss, they wouldn’t do anything to you.” At least that is what Finnick hoped. They are mostly simple women with an excess of money and time. Most didn’t realize how much fuel they gave him with their gossip.

“They wouldn’t, but if they stopped _buying_ your company, guess who _is_ going to become involved.” Finnick pales. President Snow has made it perfectly clear that if Finnick isn’t making Panem money then he and his loved ones are of no more use. 

“So I take it you’ve thought about what I said.” Finnick says warily.

“Clearly more than you have.” Katniss bites out. “How did you think this was going to go? No matter how we feel about each other, there is no future to be had. Even if we were able to hide it from Snow, we would still have appointments, we would still be separated from each other for 11 months of the year, seeing each other twice if we are lucky. We would be more intimate with our phones than each other. You have a vision of a future with a family and a home, but Snow would never allow us to get married and have children. We are too valuable to him. And if we got caught? What do you think he would do to us then?”

“I know that!” Finnick hisses, trying to keep his voice down. People were always watching them and they couldn’t afford to make a scene. “Don’t you think I haven’t thought about that! I--” He is cut off as the lights flicker on and off, signalling the start of the show. 

Finnick curses and leads her to two open chairs next to Haymitch. He had to compliment the man for keeping two free. Tradition states that Finnick was supposed to sit with the District Four escort, but he passed the poor woman by and pulling Katniss along with him. 

When they sit, Katniss tries to pull her hand back, but Finnick tightens his hold. The lights dim and Caesar Flickerman appears, giving a charismatic speech about this year’s tributes. Finnick ignores him and leans over to Katniss. “I know it will be hard, but don’t you think we’ve earned a little bit of happiness? You’re the one who has told me to find something that keeps me going and never let it go. Guess what Katniss, that’s you and I’m pretty sure you feel the same about me. Don’t let Snow take this from us.”

She turns her head to look at him and Finnick can see the indecision in her eyes. He stares her down willing her to fight against the fear. The crowd cheers and her eyes flick towards the stage. The female tribute from District One appeared and Caesar is embracing the tall girl. Katniss doesn’t look back at him again, but she stops trying to pull her hand away. 

Finnick tries to lose himself in the interviews instead of worrying about Katniss’ rejection. She hadn’t exactly said no, at least not outright and she had listened to what he had said. Besides, she was still letting him hold her hand and she had said “How we feel about each other.” That meant she felt something for him, at least he hoped it did. 

The interviews pass one by one, some tributes trying to play angles while others look more like frightened animals. He doesn’t really listen to them, perking up slightly when his tributes appear. He had told them both to play the a cocky angle. It wouldn’t be hard because for the first time in years District Four had two “Careers”. When they had volunteered, Finnick’s stomach had turned. He had never approved of Careers in the first place, but after being in the Games himself, he hated them even more. It made getting sponsors easier, but the task that much more deplorable. 

By the time Caesar gives the closing speech, the whole audience is buzzing. Everyone gets up to leave, but Katniss stays rooted in her chair, staring straight ahead. Haymitch stands, shooting him a questioning look before ushering the District 12 escort, Effie Trinket, towards the exit. 

Finnick looks at Katniss and her determined frown, and part of his heart sinks. He opens his mouth to take it all back, to tell her that it’s alright, that he’ll try to keep himself under control, and that he can try to love Annie if that’s what she really wants but Katniss whispers “Alright.”

Finnick’s heart is in his throat. “Really?”

“Really.” She says, her hand squeezing his. Finnick releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He knows how hard this decision was for her and how it could have easily gone another way. He wants to kiss her, but there are still people around so he settles for her hand. 

“Thank you.” He whispers into her skin between kisses and he knows she’s smiling as widely as he is.

***********

It’s still dark out when Finnick wakes up. In a few hours the Games will start and he needs to see his tributes off. He knows he needs to leave, but getting out of this bed is hard.

After the interviews, he returned to Katniss’ room past a smirking Haymitch and a shocked Effie. He knew women like her; propriety first and fun later. From the look on Haymitch’s face, he was going to have fun at the escort’s expense. 

They hadn’t lingered long, both knowing that their time is limited. There are so many things he wanted to do, things he has dreamt of, but when he closed the door and saw the hesitation in Katniss’ eyes he knew they would have to wait. It would have been a lie to say he hadn’t been slightly disappointed, but it was understandable. He had a head start on her; she had been only thinking about this relationship for a few days while he had been thinking about it for months, or even years if he was honest with himself. She would catch up with him eventually. 

Finnick had deposited his jacket on the chair and laid on the bed, beckoning her to join him. A few sweet words and sweeter kisses passed between the two of them, but mostly there was silence. Finnick enjoyed the feel of her pillowed next to him, her heat seeping into him and warming him from the inside out. He had been lulled into sleep by her breathing and found it nightmare free for the first time in the Capitol. 

Katniss still has her head on his shoulder and he can smell the earthy shampoo that she uses - sandalwood softened with something citrus. It seems so out of place here in the Capitol with their over the top floral perfumes, but he loves it. It’s different from the salty sea air of his home. District Four is sandwiched between dense forests, rolling mountains and ocean. Most of the population lived by the sea, but he had ventured to the east to see the evergreen woods with Mags before. It had been an assault on his senses, from the trees taller than buildings to crisp air carrying the scent of pine and dirt. 

It had been a wonder, almost like a fairytale world come to life and he had run along game trails, climbed trees, and swam in freshwater rivers. Katniss was like the personification of the woods, taking over his every sense and transporting him to another world far away from the Capitol. He remembers how she moved in the forest during her Games - pure grace and danger. She seemed at home - hunting, foraging, and sleeping in trees - while the other tributes looked completely lost in comparison. Things hadn’t changed much except that she had replaced her bow with sharp words and sly glances. 

Part of him wonders if she feels the same about him. He smiles into her hair. Unlike him, Katniss had never seen the ocean. He had mentioned taking a walk on the beach early on and she had asked him to describe it. He had been so shocked that he spent the next hour describing every detail he could about the sea - the way it smells, how the salt and sand cling to damp skin, how the sun reflects off the water and the wind catches the foam on the waves. She had listened to him intently, asking questions every now and again. 

He would love to show her the ocean; they would walk along the beach by his house until they reached the docks and then he would take her out on a boat and let her feel the soft lull of the waves. Perhaps he would get the chance one day, if District 12 ever won the Games again. 

Finnick shifts, glancing at the clock. Two hours until the tributes leave for the arena. That means he and Mags need to sit down with them for breakfast in an hour, so he has an hour to shower, change and make himself presentable. He glances down at his wrinkled shirt and knows that his hair looks just as bad. If he wanted to make it to breakfast on time he would have to leave soon. 

Finnick lets his head fall back onto the pillows with a sigh, trying to figure out if he should wake Katniss before he leaves or not. Deciding she’s going to be as busy as he is, Finnick tilts her head up and presses a kiss to her lips. 

“Katniss, you need to wake up.” He whispers against her lips. She murmurs something like a refusal and nuzzles her head back under his chin. She’s cocooned under the mound of blankets, her head the only thing visible. Even then, he can only see the mess of hair and the tip of a small olive skinned nose. This makes him chuckle softly. Who knew Katniss Everdeen would be a snuggler?

“Come on Katniss, I thought hunters got up at the crack of dawn.”

He feels her frown into the exposed skin of his neck. “Haven’t hunted in years.” She gripes. “Now sleep.” Finnick frowns, filing that bit of information away for later. 

“Can’t.” He says, running his fingers along her back. She arches into his chest either to grant him better access or get away from the ticking digits, he can’t tell. “I promised Mags I’d be at breakfast at 8.”

“What time is it?” She yawns, finally showing a hint of life. 

“Still early.” Which was true, but that didn’t mean he should linger. The regret must have been evident in his voice because Katniss finally emerges from her cave of blankets. Her hair, which had been piled high with pins last night had fallen free and hangs in an unglorified knot at the base of her neck. He had only seen Katniss less than perfect once, but he decided this was his favorite look on her.

“You should probably go.” She says, glaring at the clock. It’s already 7:15. How did he lose so much time already?

“In a minute.” He could spare that. Before he even finishes the words, Finnick is pulling her back down to him. He kisses her, pressing his lips to hers but letting Katniss set the pace. Touches last night, be it lips or hands, had been hesitant and learning but as the night wore on, Katniss had grown bolder. The kiss was a culmination of her desires and Katniss easily melted into him.  
Her lips and tongue coaxed his open while her fingers raked through his hair. He was quickly learning that kissing Katniss was a whole body experience. When one hand ventured down his chest to undo another button on his shirt, Finnick knew he had to stop her or else he would never leave this bed. 

“Minute’s up.” He whispered even as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. 

“Tease.” She growls, but she lets him go. She watches with hooded eyes as he straightens his shirt - yanked out of his pants and half unbuttoned - pulls on his jacket, and runs a hand through his hair. He tries to ignore her heated look and the way she stretches; tries not to look at her lips, swollen from his kisses; tries to pretend he didn’t miss a button completely when she slides a hand down her side - but she sees it all and smirks at him knowingly.

“Stop trying to distract me.” Finnick chastizes playfully, but falls back on to the bed, pressing kisses to her lips, cheeks, neck - anything he can get his mouth on. 

Katniss moans, “Stop being so distractible.” Her hands are back in his hair, scraping across his scalp. If his hair had been half way presentable before, he was sure it wasn’t anymore. 

“Impossible.” He says returning to her lips - her delicious, sensual, pliant lips. He groans as he pulls away. “I really do need to get going.”

Katniss sighs, letting her hands fall back to her sides. “Will I see you down in the Viewing Room?”

“Yes, but probably not Mags. She has her hands full with Annie. Will Haymitch be there?”

Katniss nods. “He knows better than to be blackout on the first day.” 

This catches Finnick’s attention. “Is he always sober at the start of the games.” Finnick tries to think back, but couldn’t remember a time he had seen the man bone dry. He was a lush - a well respected Victor, but still a lush. 

“I didn’t say anything about sober.” Katniss grimaces. “I’ll probably need to go wake him with a bucket of water, but he’ll be there.” 

“That might be worth sticking around to see.” Finnick says, dodging the pillow that flies at his head. “Alright, I am going.” He pauses at the door. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve been chased out a woman’s room.” He shuts the door quickly, hearing the dull thud of a second pillow hitting the wood.

***********

Watching kids die is a very good way to curb libido. The only thing that might be worse is laughing about it to try to get money to keep your tributes alive.

Katniss had lost one tribute in the bloodbath and her other three days later. They had an unspoken agreement to help the other victor’s tributes once theirs had perished. So he and Katniss would take shifts: he would sleep while she would watch the Games. He would bring her food and she would report back to Mags and Annie. Katniss had even offered to try to get more sponsors, but Finnick had refused.

“You and I both know how that would go.” He had said, reaching up and touching her cheek. “I know I can’t do much, but let me protect you for once.”

Katniss had sighed into his hand. He knew it was hard for her, especially knowing that her not being there meant nights were longer and more taxing for him, but he appreciated that she had done as he asked. 

Finnick’s two tributes had done well. One made it to the final eight while the other to the final four. 

For a moment he thought that District Four was going to have another victor this year. He had almost felt guilty about how much he wanted that to happen; not because he wanted his tributes to die but because he didn’t want it for them. His desire to have a victor was purely selfish - A victor meant a Victory Tour and a chance to see Katniss in six months. 

With his final tribute gone, Finnick had finally left the Viewing Room, free of it for another year. Katniss hadn’t been there when the Career had finally lost - Capitol muttations had gotten her in the end - but he wished she had. Watching tributes die, no matter how little he actually cared for them, was emotionally taxing. 

He returned to penthouse, ready to wash off the last two weeks worth of perfume and sweat. It was a strange mixture, but one he would always associate with the Games. He was wondering where Katniss was and how long it was going to take to find her when he walked into the living room. 

Katniss, Mags and Annie were all sitting on the couch. Annie was laughing - the first time she had since they had come to the Capitol - and Mags was mumbling something and he was sure it was about him. Katniss’ mischievous expression when she saw him only confirmed his fears. The scene brightened his mood considerably.

“Mags.” He said, coming up behind her and kissing her on the head. “Have enough embarrassing stories about me or do you need some more?”

Mags shrugged, smiling up at him. He knew that look, Mags was just getting started. 

“Why don’t you join us.” Annie says, looking at him hopefully. It sounded nice, but a shower sounded better.

“In a bit. I need to get cleaned up.” _And feel human again_ , his mind whispers. Finnick catches Katniss’ eye from across the room. There is still a smile on her lips for Annie but her eyes are worried. 

“Maybe you should lay down too.” She says, keeping her tone light.

_Only if you join me_. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back. He hadn’t told Annie or Mags yet about his and Katniss’ changing relationship status; partially because he wasn’t exactly sure how to classify their relationship and partially because he wanted to keep it just between the two of them. It felt like their private time was even more precious and each stolen touch and caress were more special. 

“Sounds like a good idea.” He says as he leaves. He can’t make out what Mags says, but Annie laughs again as he closes his door. 

The shower does wonders for his mental state. It’s like he is washing away the last two weeks. It doesn’t get rid of the images of the children - bloodied and brutalized - but it helps keep them at bay for the moment. Those nightmares always leak into his days, no matter what he does. 

What helps the most is the woman lying on his bed when he emerges from the bathroom. She is relaxed and playing with his rope. Her knot work is atrocious, but she keeps on trying. Finnick reaches over to take the cord back from her. 

“Please stop torturing my poor rope.” He says grasping the length in his hand. He frowns, trying to undo the mess that she made. “How did you manage this?”

Katniss frowns. “It’s not that bad.” 

“It is.” 

She glares at him, grabbing at the precious cord. Her face is flushed with embarrassment and her eyes alight with fire. He’s never seen her like this before; he wonders what other sides of Katniss Everdeen there are. 

Knocking her hands away he brings the knot free rope between them. “I’ll show you a simple knot to start with, something even you can’t get wrong and then we’ll work up to the harder ones. Is that alright?”

She doesn’t say anything, but just stares at him as he works. Her eyes bore into him intensly making Finnick laugh. “Don’t look at me, look at the knot.”

Her eyes dart down, then back up. “Do you really think that is possible?”

Finnick blinks. Slowly he looks down. He starts at his hands with the rope not really understanding until he sees the fluffy white terry cloth towel wrapped loosely around his waist and nothing else. His mouth forms a perfect oh, then, as he sees Katniss’ still blushing face, his lips lift upwards.

He lifts his hands behind his head and shifts so that one hip is jutting out. The cotton slides on his waist, the makeshift knot barely holding. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you found this distracting.”

Katniss bristles, rolling her shoulders back and down. She refuses to look at anything past his chin - something made so much harder when the weight of the damp towel finally proves to be too much for the flimsy knot. It falls to the floor with a dull thud but both refuse to stop their staring contest. 

With determined steps Katniss presses closer to him. He can feel the brush of her clothes against his heated skin, but she doesn’t touch him. Her hand skirts up past his chest, drawing them even closer as she reaches for the rope. He offers no resistance as she pulls the cord free of his fingers and drops it to the ground next to the towel. 

“I am only human Odair.”

He loves when she calls him by his last name. She uses Finnick when she is serious, when she comforts him and tells him all her secrets - and he loves that too - but Odair is reserved for solely for play. Her mouth always forms the word slowly, her lips caressing each syllable and infusing it with heat. When she says his name like that he knows why she is still called the Girl on Fire. 

Her eyes still hold his and he refuses to look away first, but almost does just that when her fingers graze his stomach. They trace each individual abdominal muscle, teasing him with the barest of touches. He can’t help the way his muscles contract as her hand flattens against his hip. 

“Good thing. That means we’ll fit together _perfectly_.” He whispers. His voice comes out harsher than he intended it to. The rasp in his voice surprises him. He’s heard it before as women come undone beneath him, never understanding why they tried to talk when it clearly was so difficult - now he did. The words were pulled from him by Katniss as deftly as she had pulled the string from his fingers. He wondered what else she would drag from him tonight. 

Her hand slides behind her as she walks around him, lingering as she removes herself from his sight. Finnick only has time to register the loss of warmth before something hits him in the face. He pulls the offending fabric away, staring at the blue and green plaid.

“Pants?” He knows his voice is almost a whine, but he can’t help it. He’s already half hard and this is not what he would call an appropriate solution to his situation. 

“You need sleep Finnick.” Katniss says, dimming the lights. “You’ve barely slept in the last week and frankly the makeup wasn’t hiding the bags under your eyes very well.”

He slips on the loose flannels with a bitter smile. “Most women usually lose themselves in my eyes, not the bags under them. You are making me feel a bit small right now Katniss.”

She pushes him from behind and Finnick falls forward on to the bed, rolling so that he can see her. He had thought she was still by the door, how did she move so quietly?

“Trust me Odair,” She purrs. There it is again, the sultry, caressing voice. Who knew his name could be so damn sexy? “You are anything _but_ small.”

“So you _did_ look.” He laughs. Katniss settles in with him on the bed, pulling herself tightly to his side. “Need me to put on a shirt so I don’t distract you from sleeping?”

She pinches his side. “Put one on and I’ll just take it off.”

“Promises, promises.” He quips, but lets himself relax. It was not exactly what he had been hoping for, but wrapped up in her arms, surrounded by the smell of sandalwood and citrus, he realizes it is everything he needs.

***********

District 12 is farthest from the Capitol which means that their trains leaves the earliest. Finnick never gave the staggered departure times much thought before, but is glad for them today.

Standing on the tracks, he watches as Effie and Haymitch get on the train. 

“Hands Pretty Boy.” Is all Haymitch says before he disappears on to one of the cars. Finnick looks back at Katniss who is shaking her head.

“Pretty Boy?” 

“It’s one of his nicer nicknames. I was sure ‘Peacock’ was going to stick for a while.”

Finnick winces. “I guess I can live with that.”

He stares at Katniss. It’s going to be a year, a _whole_ year before he gets to see her again; a year before he’ll get to hold her, touch her, kiss her. He wants to go back to the Tribute Center and fall into bed with her and never let her go, but that isn’t possible - the Capitol is watching them, luckily while Katniss has a strong fan base in the Capitol, she hasn’t garnered the rabid attention that he has. In about four hours, he’ll be here with a horde of crying women standing between him and the train. 

“So,” Finnick ventures, “When Haymitch says ‘hands’, does that mean I’m not even allowed to hug you?”

“It’s...probably for the best - at least where the media can see us.”

“Well in that case...” Finnick says, grabbing her and pulling the shocked woman onto the train. He presses her against the wall next to the door. They are swathed in shadow as his lips descended to hers. She should have known better than to try to leave without a kiss. The idea that she had planned on it fuels the anger in him. It mixes with his ever present anger at the Capitol - at Snow - and flows from him in a desperate kiss. 

He tries to burn everything about her into his memory and etch himself onto hers. He has let her set the pace of their relationship, always letting her decide how far to go. This was the first time he had pressed. He wanted her to understand the depth of his affections, how she affected him and how _much_ he was going to miss her. 

The whistle sounded with an all aboard call. Wrenching himself away from her lips with a resounding pop, Finnick takes satisfaction at her dazed, languid look. He presses a quick kiss to her cheek with a whispered “I love you” before he’s off the train. 

He can see Effie standing in the hallway, staring at him openly amazed as the door closes. He’s shocked himself too. That was the first time he had said those words.

***********

“Don’t call tomorrow.” Katniss says past a mouthful of something. Finnick frowns, at the ceiling. It’s hot out and he tried to cool off with a shower, but it had only reminded him of the Capitol and Katniss. It had been ten months since then, but he swore he could still feel her touch ghosting over his skin. It had driven his fantasies into overdrive and had him reaching for the phone.

Whatever he had anticipated when she picked up, it hadn’t been this. 

“Why?”

“Prim and Rory are having their toasting. We’ll be busy celebrating all night.”

This makes even less sense to Finnick. “Toasting?”

“Prim and Rory are...getting married.”

“Oh.” Is all Finnick can manage. This is the first he has heard about it. He was happy for them, truly he was, but the omission caused his chest to tighten. “When did...When did Rory propose?”

“Last month.” 

He forces a smile on to his face and joy into his voice. “Send them my congratulations.”

“Prim will be happy to have it. She’s excited and nervous. It’s...They are moving into a house in the Seam. I tried to help with rent and get them a larger house, but Rory is like Gale - too proud to ask for help. Prim is still going to work with Mom, so she’s agreed to let us pay her a stipend for her time at least. I..” Her voice cracks then. “I am proud of her.”

“You should be. Prim is going to be a beautiful bride.” 

“She will be. She’s wearing Mom’s wedding dress.”

Finnick tries to picture Prim in a simple white dress, but he finds it hard to see anything but Katniss - dressed in white, standing in the ocean with a simple knotted bracelet around her left wrist. 

“What--” His words catch in his throat at the image. He wants to ask more about the ceremony, to talk more about the happy couple, but he can’t get the picture of Katniss out of his head. He knows that it will never happen - Snow will never allow it - but she looks so _beautiful_ in the fading light by the sea. He had never allowed himself that particular dream, but he knows the vision won’t leave easily. 

“I bet you never thought your little sister would get married before you.”

“I never wanted to get married.” Katniss’ words are simple, straight forward and so heartbreakingly sad. He doesn’t know if this pain is for her or for them. 

“Why not?” He asks. 

There is a heavy silence. It stretches so long that Finnick is convinced that she hung up on him, but her voice comes across the line thick with emotion. “There are so few things I love in this life and less that I can protect. I--I can’t lose anything else, especially not my family. I’ve already lost too much of that.”

Finnick understood that sentiment. The Capitol had taken so much from him, from every victor, and even more from the families of the tributes who died. He saw how they struggled, how they wandered the streets listlessly for weeks after the Games. Making parents watch helplessly as their child was brutally murdered for entertainment was beyond cruel. He had seen some of that first hand on his Victory Tour.

Could he spend a lifetime worried about his children? Worried that they would be reaped and he would have to watch them in the Arena? If he had children, would he really want them to win? He didn’t know the answer to the later questions, but the answer to the first was ‘yes’. He could spend a lifetime worried for a child because there would be more than the anxiety; there would be happiness and laughter, there would be joy and light and _it would be worth it_. That was the difference between him and Katniss; she struggled to survive while he struggled to live. 

Would he have been like that if he hadn’t had Katniss?

“I love you.” The words fly from his lips. He’s said it a million times, he said it everytime he calls her and sometimes twice in one breath. His voice is gravel as the emotions clog his throat and make his tongue dysfunctional, but he had to say it. He’ll say it until she sees the beauty in it that he does; he’ll say it until she sees the rebellion and the fight. Love in this world is the only beautiful thing they have. It is the one thing that the Capitol and Snow can’t take from them. They can take the future, but the present belongs to them. 

“I love you too Finnick,” echoes across the line before he hears the click. It was so soft that he might have imagined it. Even as he listens to the dial tone, Finnick can’t stop the face cracking smile that consumes him. 

Katniss might be surviving now, but he would get her to live, even if it kills him.


	4. Second Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys! I hope you've stuck around for the next installment of the story. Like before, this is a bunch of scenes that take part at the same time as the last chapter. Most of them are from Katniss' POV, but I tried to write Annie a bit too! I really like Annie and I am having such fun with her! Again, things are bit disjointed, so I hope it's not too hard to follow.
> 
> Let me know if there are any questions or something just doesn't work.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters and worlds belong to Suzanne Collins

Katniss looks at the dress her stylist set out for her with a frown. It was a beautiful dress and just like all the others that the two of them had compromised on: sleek, powerful and covered her scars. It allowed her to detach and separate who she was at the Capitol and who she was in District 12. Back home she lived in functional, comfortable homespun. She allowed herself to try to be the girl from before the games. The split was important for her sanity, like she could insulate Prim and her family from the worst of the Capitol’s damage. 

But that was a lie. She always carried everything around with her and deluded herself into thinking she had, and could, bear the burden of the Games. She had built a fortress around her heart to keep the Capitol out, but she had also isolated herself from her family. There had been a numbness in the wake of Gale’s death that had never really faded. It was like a layer of thick scar tissue around her, muting her senses and the pain. It affected more than just her: Prim, Vick, Rory, Finnick - she had thrust it on them by pushing them away. 

The Games had touched everyone in her life and no one could move past them. Finnick at least was trying. He had laid everything bare from the beginning - every flaw, every trauma, every hurt - and was healing as much as a victor ever really could. He was growing while she just rotted away and took down everyone with her. 

Well she was tired of it. She was tired of the stagnant, stale thing that she had allowed herself to become. Gale would of _hated_ her. He had always been a fighter, a survivor, and she had been too. She had survived her father’s death and years of virtual starvation because she had Prim and Gale. Now she was trying to survive his death and everything President Snow had thrown at her, but she was sinking because she tried to do it alone and it clearly wasn’t working. 

Prim had yelled at her once years ago. She begged Katniss to let her in, but Prim was so good and sweet and pure while Katniss was nothing. She hadn’t wanted to show her sister the festering wound she had become. That feeling hadn’t left, but now she wanted to try - she wanted to live in color again, if not for herself then for the people around her. 

So she would follow Finnick’s lead. She had talked to Prim - really talked to her. There had been lots of tears. Prim had looked at her in horror when she understood exactly what happened at the Capitol and Katniss had almost run away. She had wanted to hide from the knowing eyes of her sister, but Prim hadn’t let her and _thanked_ Katniss. The look on her face - red rimmed eyes, tear stained cheeks and the biggest smile Katniss had seen in years - had made all the pain and fear worth it. 

For the first time in a long time Katniss had felt a real connection to her sister. There were still years of silence between them, but she felt more like the Girl in the Woods at that moment than she had since Gale died. 

Not only that, she had felt real - not just a pawn, not just a shell, not just a doll - but a person. That feeling had faded the closer she got to the Games. Everytime she came back to the Capitol and put on pretty dresses only to take them off again it slipped from her, like water through cupped hands. So Katniss latched on to what had made her human, the small sliver of goodness that the Capitol had punished her for. 

Going to her closet she riffled through it until she found what she had been looking for - dresses Cinna had designed for her. She hadn’t worn any of them after Gale had died and Cinna had left the world of the Games shortly afterwards. He had been so disgusted with her treatment and that he had given it all up. They still talked, and he would buy her time to give her breaks when she visited the Capitol but he never made dresses that would be used for her stays. 

But tonight she wanted to make a statement - to the Capitol and herself. 

The shimmering dress cascaded along her front in soft waves of light and her hair was pinned up off her neck so no one would miss the centerpiece of the dress - the gnarled skin of her back.

********************

Titiana Hedius was growing on Katniss’ nerves. She was the daughter of the famous Renatus Hedius, a jeweler known for his delicate wire work and bold gem choices. She was adorned from head to toe with glittering gems embedded in complex spirals - clearly gifts from her father - with the most ornate ones resting on her ample bosom. Young, well endowed and dripping in wealth, she had caught the eye of many of the men at the gala but she had her sights set on one in particular.

“Finnick.” Titiana pouts, trying to sound weak. “Some men are being overly forward. It is unnerving and I am scared. Can I stay here with you?” 

She had sauntered over to their group multiple times in the last hour, practically following Katniss and Finnick around the room. Each excuse she used to try to get Finnick away from the conversation had failed, so now she was trying a new tactic. It wasn’t very subtle, but there was no way Finnick could turn her down without looking heartless. 

“Of course.” Finnick smiles, reaching over to kiss the girl’s hand. “A woman should never be uncomfortable in a man’s presence, it should only ever be a pleasurable experience for both parties.”

“You are such a gentleman.” She purrs, and latches onto his arm. “How can I ever thank you?”

Finnick flinches ever so slightly and Katniss decides that she is tired of dealing with the girl for the evening. At 17, Titiana wouldn’t have been allowed to attend these parties until recently and it was blatantly obvious. The older Capitol men and women of their group found it amusing, but Katniss had little and less patience for the girl’s aggressive advances. 

“A gentleman needs no thanks.” Finnick replies easily. His eyes keep darting back and forth between the girl who now is pressing her breasts against his arm and Katniss - pleading with her to save him from the onslaught. 

The music changes and Katniss can see Titiana’s eyes light up and she knows the girl’s next move. She doesn’t think Finnick would survive a dance alone with the supposed temptress so she cuts her off. 

“If you point out the men, I am sure Finnick and I can persuade them to be more gentle with you. It would be wrong to let men like that go un-chastised. I would hate to think about the poor woman they cornered next.”

Titiana shoots Katniss an annoyed look, and it thrills Katniss to the core. The girl was a spoiled brat and Katniss wasn’t in the mood to indulge her. Finnick wasn’t going to just fall into bed with her because she batted her feather tipped eyelashes at him. The Games were off limits to formal appointments and that meant that Finnick was well within his limited rights to turn the girl down - and if he didn’t want to cause a scene doing that then Katniss was more than happy to. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Titiana says slowly, trying to think of a way out of the situation. “They have moved on.”

“To another target?” Katniss gasps aghast. The group mumbles something that sounds concerned. 

“Perhaps you should let them go.” One of the men suggests. “Katniss can be very...compelling.”

He meant intimidating and manipulative, not exactly traits prefered in most women of the Capitol but Katniss didn’t mind the the distinction.

“I--” Titiana’s eyes are wild, but she knows she’s been cornered. “Very well. It was the men over by the bar.” 

“Please stay here.” Finnick says, pulling away from the girl. “I am sure everyone will be happy to look after you.” 

Katniss notes that Finnick didn’t promise to return to the group anytime soon. Good. 

As they walk away, Finnick slips an arm around her waist. He had been doing it more often and he always seemed to be able to find any patch of skin exposed by her dresses. His palm was warm and large as it settled on her hip. 

“Thank you.” He whispers against her skin and Katniss can feel his lips as they brush the shell of her ear. 

“You’re welcome.” She replies, shocked at how her words shake slightly. She swallows when his thumb begins to brush back and forth. 

“So should we go talk to some random people by the bar or just get the hell out of here? I’m not going to lie, the second option sounds really appealing.” 

Katniss had to admit that it did sound appealing. They had already attended a dinner courtesy of one of Finnick’s more established appointments before they even arrived at this party. Her nerves were stretched thin and all she wanted to do was take off her stupid heels. 

“Home.” She sighs and she can feel him chuckle. She’s pressed so tightly against him that the sound vibrates through her. 

“You’re place or mine?” He purrs and Katniss laughs because if she thinks about that seriously her mind goes to places it shouldn’t - places she had promised never to visit again. 

“Odair --” She starts, but then curses silently. Titiana has freed herself from the group and was heading this way. “Dance with me.” She hisses, dragging the confused boy towards the dance floor. 

Finnick sees the reason for their sudden flight and lets out a stream of curses of his own. “Doesn’t she ever give up?”

“Apparently not.” Katniss grumbles as she pulls him into a the fray. She spins sharply and grabs his hands, falling easily into the slow waltz. Titiana stops at the edge of the crowd, glaring daggers at her. Katniss has the childish urge to stick her tongue out at the fuming girl.

“How long do you think we’ll need to stay out here?” Finnick asks, stepping more into her space with every turn. His hand guides her closer until Katniss can feel the heat of his body through the dress. Her torso is pinned to his, leaving their legs to weave in and out of each other intimately as they sway to the music. 

Over his shoulder Titiana fumes, turning more and more red with every step they take. Jealousy is not a good color on her. The heiress moves through the crowd, glaring at the dancing couple defiantly until she places herself between them and the exit. 

“A while.” Katniss mumbles. Monopolizing Finnick’s time to keep him from that harpy was no skin off her back. Her aching feet were well worth it. 

Finnick spins them and spots Titiana with a sigh. His hand pulls her impossibly close and he whispers in her ear. “I’m not complaining.” 

He pulls slightly back and shoots her a dazzling smile. She wasn’t either.

********************

Prim asks Katniss if she’s excited to see Finnick. Annie Cresta’s Victory Tour is only three days out.

“No.” Katniss says. 

Prim smiles at her. “Alright.” The young woman says and her voice is overly innocent. Katniss glares at her amused tone - her little duck gave up the argument too easily.

Katniss knows that look. Prim was getting ideas, ideas about Katniss and Finnick. It was Gale all over again - the girls whispering about Katniss at school and sighing dramatically when Gale would walk her home. It had been wild speculation at the time and so was this. She and Gale had been _friends_. 

Until they hadn’t been.

Finnick was different though. _They_ were different. And they were friends. 

Just...friends.

********************

Annie’s bad days vastly outnumbered her good ones, but today was definitely a good one. She had slept last night, a rare occurrence in and of itself, and then Finnick had picked her up. The sun was shining and they had walked the short distance over to Mags’ house. The Victor’s Village wasn’t large, but sometimes the 50 meter walk across the small village green seemed insurmountable.

Mags’ house was busy with family and sometimes it was too much for Annie, but she was looking forward to the bustle today. Today was special and she was glad that she was present for it. Marie, Mags’ youngest was turning seven today and everyone was coming by to cook a small feast as was tradition 

Annie loved cooking. Mags and her had been cooking as part of her therapy over the last few weeks and she thought it was helping. She hardly ever had episodes when she was focused on preparing food and the results of the session always made Finnick smile. Annie liked it when Finnick smiled, it made something in her chest twist sweetly.

Unconsciously her hand reaches over to his. It was always there when she needed it, large and still calloused from his work on the water with his father. He had been spending more time with her lately, but she saw how much he enjoyed bringing in a good catch.

Finnick stops abruptly as her fingers tighten around his. “Are you alright Annie?” He asks. His eyes are penetrating and his brows crease in worry. 

She nods and smiles at him. “Yes, I just...” She just wanted to hold his hand. Her cheeks flush and he laughs, squeezing her hand.

“I like holding your hand too.” He whispers conspiratorially before walking again. Her heart tightens and Annie thinks that it would be easy to fall for Finnick Odair. 

As soon as they enter the house, they are swarmed by people. Finnick is whisked away by Marie and the younger children to go play while Annie makes her way to the kitchen where Mags and the other mothers are. 

“Annie!” Clara says cheerfully. “I am glad you are here.”

What she meant was ‘I am glad that you aren’t staring off into space or cowering in a corner.’ Annie was glad too and smiled back. 

“How can I help?”

Clara pointed at the large, whole salmon sitting on ice. “Mark just brought that in. Can you clean and fillet it?” 

Annie nods. It was a beautiful fish - cleaned, gutted and ready for cutting. With quick, efficient strokes, she slices through the neck and lets her knife do the work as she runs it down the the spine. She has done this a million times and the work is mindless and relaxing. She loses herself in it and doesn’t notice as the women stop to watch her work. 

“You’re very good with a knife Annie.” Clara says. 

Hannah, one of Mags’ older grandchildren leans over to get a better look. Her brown hair flashes in the corner of Annie’s eye and she slips, the sharp fillet knife sliding and slicing open her palm. 

Annie cries out, watching the blood seep between her fingers. It’s hot and red as it gushes and she can’t stop the flow. She presses harder, but it’s futile. There’s so much blood and it covers her hands, her wrists and her clothes. Past her fingers she can see Michael’s face - pale and lifeless. It stares at her accusingly, blaming her for his death. Why had he protected her? Why had he saved her? 

Annie realizes that she’s pressed into the corner, shrunk into a ball as she curls into herself, trying to get away from those eyes. The knife, now splattered with blood has been kicked under the small island and she can see it from where she is. 

“Annie?”

She whips around and see people- Finnick and Mags and the whole family are looking at her. Their words are muffled and she realizes that it's because her hands are fisted over her ears. When she pulls them away she sees the blood again and jerks violently, trying to scrub it away only to have white hot pain shoot up her arm. 

Unbridled terror rushes through her and adrenaline flooded her system forcing her legs to work. _Run. Get out of here, don’t look just run!_ Her mind yells at her, but the exits are blocked by children - young adults aged 12 - 18. _Don’t let them get you. Stay away, stay away, stay away!_

She tries to claw up the wall but there are no handholds. No way out. Can’t run. Can’t get away. Nowhere safe. They are coming for her. She can’t hide. She can’t breathe. Water rushing around her. Swim. Run. Live. 

Her arms are pinned at her side and she is hulled against something warm. Voices screaming. Voices talking. The smell of white wood and mineral salt and sand. Many voices. One voice. One warm, steady voice. Woods and salt. A hand strokes her hair, not clawing at her. Calming, so calming. Lips at her temple whisper her name. 

Slowly her heart rate calms and Annie registers her surroundings. She’s being held by Finnick, pressed firmly against his chest. She raises a hand to his arm that is wrapped around her and runs her thumb along his forearm. He relaxes and Annie realizes that he’s been murmuring her name over and over into her hair. 

“Annie, are you alright?” He whispers, releasing her inch by inch. 

She starts to nod, but then she remembers her hand and the pain flares, reminding her of what started it all. Finnick stands her up and gently and takes her over to the sink. She’s embarrassed when she sees the cut - it’s small, a nick really, not the gushing wound she had expected.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers and Finnick smiles. It’s soft and sweet and safe. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you are alright.” 

She’s not really, but when he’s with her, she just might be. Marie comes bounding in and hugs Annie around the legs. 

“Are you better now?” She asks, all wide-eyed innocence. Annie smiles. She does really like the little girl.

“Yes. Finnick took care of me.” 

Marie nods decisively. “He’s good at that. He helped me when I fell down and cut my knee. And then when I cut my elbow. And when I bumped my head.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.” 

“Yep! Finnick’s the best. That’s why I am going to marry him when I grow up.” 

Finnick laughs and musses up Marie’s hair with his wet hands. She squeals and runs back into the other room, sticking her tongue out at him as she darts around the corner. Finnick chases her, leaving Annie in the kitchen. 

_Marrying Finnick Odair...._ Her mind whispers.

She’s startled when Clara puts a hand on her shoulder. She blushes when she realizes she had been staring off into space. 

“Annie?” She asks. 

“I’m fine, just thinking.” 

Clara smiles at her, a small knowing smile that makes Annie blush. “I’m sure.” 

Annie blushes harder, sure that she’s red all the way to the tips of her toes.

********************

“I have to go to the Capitol next week.” Finnick sighs over the phone. His voice is emotionless, a stark difference to a few minutes ago when they had been talking about Annie. The poor woman was making progress, but it was slow. The Victory Tour had set her back months and she was back to alternating between staring off into space and falling into violent dreams. There were bright points though and Finnick was more than happy to tell Katniss about each and every one of those.

Annie was a good girl and Finnick liked her. Katniss was glad that they were bonding. Outside of Mags and her family, Finnick never talked about anyone from District Four. Worse, he never talked about the future anymore. His hopes and dreams were starting to vanish and it terrified Katniss. If Annie could bring that back into his life then whatever hardships they endured would be worth it. 

“How long will you be there?” Katniss asks, adjusting the phone on her shoulder. They had been talking for a while and the kitchen stool was starting to make her back hurt. She was tempted to just move one of the chairs from the living room in here and be done with it. 

“Two weeks.”

Outside the Games, he only had ever been at the Capitol for a few days. Katniss wanted to curse. 

“How many appointments?”

“A lot.” He whispered. “Katniss?” His voice breaks, “You’ll be around when I get back, right?”

“Yes.” She wanted to tell him that it was going to be fine. That he would be alright, but that was a lie and they didn’t lie to each other. 

“Will Annie be alright while you are gone?” She asks, changing the subject. She can almost hear the shrug in his voice. 

“Mags will be here, but I don’t know. Sometimes I think the trips are just as hard on her as they are on me. I keep thinking that one day I’ll come back and she won’t be here.” 

“Annie is stronger than you give her credit for Finnick - and so are you.” 

There is a long silence. “You say that, but it gets harder and harder to believe.”

********************

The sunset is soft and the amber hues cast the evening in warm shades of red.

_Red. Blood. Droplets on her skin. Pain. Michael's eyes. Dead. Dead. Dead._

Annie sucks in a breath and fists her hands in the sand. It is soft and white and dry. She doesn't dare go near the sea. Even showers were hard. 

 

There is nothing to hold her here. There is only _there_ and _them_.

_Her heartbeat. Their footsteps. Michael’s face, slack and dead at her feet. A sword. Drip. Drip. Drip. Blood. Screams. Dead. Dead. Dead._

She is screaming, begging someone to come get her. And someone does- Beautiful, solid, strong. 

“Finnick?” She sobs as his arms come around her. She traces his square jaw, his high cheek bones and realized he wasn’t an illusion. He was was here, actually here with her, and they were back in District Four. 

The sky is dark and the tide has rolled in and laps at her toes. Instinctively she pulls her knees up putting inches between her and the water, bringing her closer to her savior. 

How long had he been gone? She had missed him, missed his voice and his arms and his shy kisses. She relishes his presence, trying to lose herself in his embrace, but there was something off - something _not Finnick_. 

He smells of perfume and she can still see some glitter that clung to him. It shimmers softly in the moonlight. It highlights the soft glow of the night on his skin and she can see the dark circles under his eyes. 

Finnick picks her up and carries her back to his house whispering words into her hair but they are hollow. He doesn't see her, not really, and after he places her in bed she doesn't see him again.

********************

The phone rings in the middle of the night. Katniss is out of bed immediately and walks down the hallway. She decided to move her bedroom downstairs a few years ago after trying - and failing - to figure out how to get the phone upstairs. It was the best solution for everyone involved.

She gets there by the third ring and doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

“How bad was it?” She asks. Finnick had been gone a long time - longer than originally planned which meant someone very important had asked for him at the last minute and Snow couldn’t say no. 

“It...Katniss, I...” His words dissolves into a broken cry and there is nothing she can do. Her fingernails bite into her palm as her fists clench. Damn the Capitol and damn Snow. One day he was going to get everything he deserved and it was going to be at her hand. She was going to kill that bastard - someday, somehow she was going to send an arrow straight through his chest and watch him die slowly and painfully, choking on his own blood. 

There is nothing to do, nothing to say, until the quiet, heartbreaking sobs fade into jagged breaths. She could tell Finnick was trying to compose himself, but that was beyond either of them tonight. 

She feels so powerless.

“Finnick.” She says into the receiver, glad that her voice is steady. “You don’t have to tell me, you don’t even have to say anything, just please, _please_ , don’t do anything stupid.” There had been moments - fear inducing, heart-stopping moments - when Mags called her and told her that it had been close. They had almost lost him. Finnick was a passionate, impulsive young man and he didn’t always think things through.

Or perhaps it was he thought about it too much.

He wouldn’t have been the first tribute to kill themselves. Others had done it for much less. But Katniss hadn’t known them, hadn’t cared about them. Finnick was her friend. She needed him as much as he needed her. On nights like this she hated the distance between them. She wanted to be there to help him and keep him out of trouble.

“I am tired Katniss, but... I don’t want to sleep.” He whispers. 

“Then don’t. I’ll stay up with you.” 

“Thank you.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, so Katniss fills in the silence. She tells him about Vick’s new experiments with a St. John’s Wort poultice, Prim and Rory’s dates, her mother fussing over the two teenagers and Prim’s face after receiving a bottle of birth control from her. She talks until there is nothing left to talk about and she knows that Finnick has fallen asleep. 

Katniss puts her head down, resting the receiver between her arm and ear. It’s uncomfortable but she doesn’t care. Through the phone, she can hear his steady breathing and knows that they have made it through another night.

********************

“Hello?” Prim says as she picked up the phone.

“Is Katniss there?” Came the tired voice on the other end. Prim recognized it immediately.

“I’m sorry Finnick. She left for the Capitol this morning. She won’t be back for a few days.”

There was a strangled noise and then he hung up. Prim frowned at the phone, worried for her friend.

********************

Annie sees Finnick sitting on his porch looking out at sea. She smiles and runs to greet him.

“Finnick!” She says, but stops when he gives her a weak smile back. He had recently come back from another trip to the Capitol. He was always like this when he came back - an empty shell wearing his face. This time was worse than usual. It probably had something to do with how long the trip had been.

“Annie.” 

She looked up to see Mags smiling at her and holding a plate of cut fruit. 

Annie takes a small piece of apple and smiles back at the old woman. She likes Mags. The woman was like Finnick - strong and comforting and real. “Thank you Mags.”

Mags puts the plate of fruit in front of Finnick. He nods, but doesn’t take a piece. His hands are too busy a length of rope: making knots, undoing knots, making more knots and undoing those. His fingers work at a blistering pace, but he doesn’t seem to even realize what he is doing. 

It scares Annie and she wraps her arms around herself. She needed him to be strong. His voice was one of the only ones that could reach her when she lost herself and if he wasn’t there...

Finnick abruptly gets up, mumbling something about a shower and disappears into the house. She is confused. He didn't smell bad, in fact his hair looked damp, like he had just washed. 

“Mags.” Annie asks as she hears the water start. “What happens to him at the Capitol?”

Mags crunched into an apple. “Bad things.”

“Will he be alright?”

“Yes. Give him time.”

Annie wished she could do more, but her voice never seemed to reach him.

********************

Two days later Finnick’s phone rings. It startles Annie, but she watches as Finnick picks it up and the hollowness in his eyes recedes just a bit.

“Katniss” He breathes. Relief is etched into the planes of his face and he smiles, it’s small and weak compared to his normal ones but it is real.

********************

The days when Finnick smiles are her favorite. Annie Cresta decides that she could spend the rest of her life making him smile and be happy because that is something worth holding onto - he is worth holding on to. He is worth coming back from the nightmares for. He makes it worth fighting to stay.

The shadows play with her, dancing at the edge of her days but she knows he’ll be there to chase them away. She would love him for that alone. Then he smiles and her insides flip flop. He smiles the most for her and she loves it. 

She loves him.

And she tells him. 

That is the night the kisses stop, but he still smiles for her. She knows he’ll always smile for her. 

But he is going to kiss someone else, and she knows exactly who it is: the girl on the other end of phone. Annie thinks she should have always known because Katniss is the one who chases his shadows away. 

And he loves her for that.

********************

The elevator opens and Katniss walks into the fourth floor apartments of the Tribute Center. She looks beautiful but Mags always thinks she does. The girl has learnt to put her foot down with the stylists and has found a balance between the extreme fashion of the Capitol and her own personal style.

Her face lights up when she sees the older woman. “Mags, how are you?” She says, leaning forward to kiss Mags on the cheek. 

“I’m good.” The older woman mumbles and gives her a smile. She pats the seat next to her. “Finnick is still..” She finishes with a small hair flip. This makes Katniss laugh. 

“I guess ‘perfection’ takes longer than I thought.” Katniss says rolling her eyes. “I’m glad they don’t hold me to that standard. And Annie? How is she taking being back in the Capitol”

Mags shrugs. Frankly Annie isn’t handling the Games all that well, but she’s doing better than she was during the Victory Tour. All the progress Annie’s made can be attributed to Finnick. Mags is a firm believer in the healing power of love - Brian had been her strength in the years after her own games and she can see that Finnick and Annie have a similar relationship. 

“Do you think she’ll be up to talking? From everything Finnick says, I think I would like Annie a lot.” 

Mags smiles. She thinks Annie and Katniss would get along well too. They were polar opposites in so many ways but they were also very similar. Annie was like a gentle sunrise - bright, welcoming and hopeful - while Katniss was a vibrant sunset - the lingering light on the edge of darkness. 

“I’m glad.” Katniss says, her eyes traveling back towards the bedrooms. “I was worried last year. She’s come a long way. Finnick’s proud of her.”

“Love will do that.” Mags mumbles with a smile. 

“Finnick said something along those lines. I’m happy for them.”

Mags frowns. She knows she’s looking at Finnick’s “But” - the one thing that has held him back from Annie. She saw the way the two looked at each other last year. It had made everything with Annie so much more surprising. Mags knows they would be good together - Finnick and Annie - but he had already given his heart away. 

The question was, how did Katniss feel?

“Me too.” Mags mumbles, watching Katniss from the corner of her eye. “They seem happy, especially Annie. I can always tell when she’s been kissed.” She pats her cheeks and shoots Katniss a toothy grin. 

Katniss, who had still been watching for Finnick’s arrival, snaps to attention. She doesn’t look at Mags - refuses to in fact - and her back is ramrod straight. 

“That’s good...” Her voice is tight and she takes a deep breath before turning and flashing a practiced smile. Her face is a mask, her Capitol mask that she has _never_ worn in the District Four apartments, and she says in an even, controlled manner. “I’ve been telling that boy to find someone for years.” 

Mags opens her mouth to say something else, but Finnick finally emerges from the back, as perfect as ever and the moment is gone. Katniss relaxes and has an easy smile ready for Finnick. 

“Mr. Odair,” She says, “You know it is considered rude to keep a lady waiting.” 

He smiles sheepishly, “I would never _dream_ of being rude to the great Katniss Everdeen. I like my head where it is, thank you very much.” 

They leave with barely a wave in Mags’ direction, completely lost in each other.

********************

_I want a future with you._

Those words echoed in Katniss’ mind - rattling around and causing untold damage to herself control. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. How had she let this happen? 

Her lips burned from his kiss. Finnick Odair was the personification of desire - he wanted as much as he was wanted - and she was apparently his end game. She had seen it in his eyes and tasted it in his kiss. Devotion had dripped from his lips and for the briefest moment she had been swept up in him and lived his future. She had felt complete, safe and loved. 

It had been so easy. 

Gale had also made it easy. Then he had died and nothing had been easy after that. 

No, Katniss knows what the future holds for them. She had seen it - _lived_ it once - and she couldn’t afford to do it again. Fear claws at her when she thinks about what Snow would do to Finnick if he ever found out about this.

She wouldn’t - couldn’t - have more blood on her hands.

********************

Katniss could feel Finnick’s hand tightly clutching her own and she was vaguely aware of the bright lights and the easy manner of Caesar Flickerman as he interviewed the tributes but she wasn’t really present. Her mind was back in District 12, back when her father had been alive.

It had been a rainy and miserable day, made worse since the Hunger Games were going on. Since the weather had been so bad, they hadn’t made everyone gather in the square for the mandatory viewing of the day’s events, but Peacekeepers still came by and checked that everyone was watching. She didn’t want to watch. There had been so much blood and even the idea of it turned her stomach. Her mother had learnt early on that Katniss was not cut out to be a healer, much to her chagrin. Katniss’ father just laughed it off, saying that’s why they had two kids instead of one. 

Katniss had frowned and declared with a green face and a voice muffled by her father’s shoulder that she was never going to have children. Ever. Children could be reaped for the Hunger Games and no one should ever have to do that. At 11, Katniss was up for her first reaping next year and that thought terrified her. 

Her father had just stroked her hair and said, “It’s true that the Reapings are scary, but outside the fear there is joy - so much joy. You and your sister are the lights of my life. Even in the darkness of the mines, all I have to think about is you two and the world is infinitely brighter. You make me happy and nothing - not the mines, not the Peacekeepers and not even the Games can take that away from me. There’s not much to love in the Seam, so every bit we get is that much more precious.”

Two months later he had died. He had taken all the light and happiness and hope with him. Katniss watched as her mother fell into a crippling depression and even Prim stopped smiling. She was consumed with desperation and anger and despair and knew these were the only gifts the Capitol would ever give them. 

Then there was the Boy with the Bread and the dandelion and she had hope again. 

Then there was Gale and the woods and she felt happiness again. 

She had fought and rebelled against love, but it had been impossible not to love Gale and she had finally given in one day in the woods. There had been no mind shattering kiss, no poetic confessions of love just a single truth that started an avalanche of realizations. 

They had been talking about the mines and their now limited time in the woods when he reached across and flicked the end of her braid. Katniss had smiled at him - something that had become more rare than a harvest moon since she had come back from the Games - and he had smiled back. 

“I think about the woods all the times in the mines, but mostly because I am thinking about your smile. The thought of you gets me through the day Catnip. It always has.” 

It had made her heart flutter and on a Sunday two weeks later, Gale had reached over and tugged on her braid and Katniss had followed, sharing a sweet first kiss. The weight of the Games had still been there - the guilt, the fear, the disgust - but there was something else, something precious and bright and beautiful too. They were both trapped in darkness, but they had something to hold onto and her father had been right - it was worth it. 

Now Finnick was offering her another chance and if she was being completely honest with herself - which she almost never was - she would admit that she had already taken it. More than that, she wanted it. Katniss wanted everything Finnick was and everything he promised - she wanted that something that was hers. 

“Alright.” She whispers as the auditorium emptied. Fear eats at the edge of her courage, but it is blown away by the look on Finnick’s face. 

“Really?” He asks. He is awash with hope and happiness and Katniss realizes that she could have denied him that - denied them that.

“Really.”

Then he is kissing her hand, whispering “Thank you” like a prayer and she feels her heart burst. This is what her father had cherished. It was the gift of bread and the years in the woods all wrapped up in one moment. 

And even with the very real possibility of losing it all again, Katniss was happy.

********************

The small house at the edge of the Seam was the compromise that Katniss and Rory had come up with. It was just at the edge of town, keeping the walk to the Victor’s Village comparatively short while still being affordable for a miner and an apothecary. Usually when couples applied for a marriage license a house was arbitrarily assigned based on total household income - meaning merchants stayed in town and the miners stayed the Seam. Special cases included rights of succession in the case of shop owners and apparently popular victors. Katniss had pulled some strings at the Justice Building, greased some palms and batted her eyelashes to get Rory and Prim the perfect house. If it had been up to her, they would be living in town, right at the edge of of Victory Village, but both Rory and Prim had insisted on making their own way. She didn’t begrudge them their independence, but she had gotten so used to the full house and having her family within arm’s reach that the distance from here to the Seam seemed ridiculously large.

Her mother, Hazelle and Prim had come down earlier that morning to begin cleaning the house. As all houses in the Seam, it came fully furnished and outfitted - but that meant falling apart pots and pans, well used beds and couches and a small set of two dishes perfect for newlyweds. The meager furnishings were quickly supplemented with gifts from friends and family and Prim and Rory were very popular across town and the Seam so once they had announced their marriage, the gifts had already started pouring in. 

Katniss walks in, carrying a small package of beef, a gift from Rooba, and bottle of white liquor from Ripper. All the windows of the small house were wide open, letting a small breeze that only helped with the stifling summer heat slightly. The small dining room table filled with gifts while the kitchen counters were filled with food. Katniss put the meat in the already well stocked ice-chest and the white liquor with the rest of the gifts. There was everything from miss-matched plates and cups to new sheets. 

“A little help please.” Comes a warm voice from outside. Katniss, dashes from the kitchen to the door and open the door without thinking. She is greeted by the sight of baked goods - a few loaves of bread, a plate of cookies and a cake, a full two tiers and decorated with perfect, yellow primroses. 

“Thanks.” says the voice again, and she catches sight of the mop of curly blonde hair belonging to Peeta Mellark. He puts the cake down on of the few open spots on the kitchen counter, almost dropping some of the multitude of loaves. Katniss springs forward, catching a few that had slipped from his grasp. 

“Thanks again.” He laughs, and Katniss is close enough to see the laughter lines at the edge of his eyes. His eyes are a startling shade of blue and just as warm as they had been the day he had thrown her the bread. She blushes and puts the bread on the counter, trying to put some distance between them. Being around Peeta Mellark was always nerve racking. It had been 15 years since that rainy day, and she still couldn’t figure out how to thank him for that and now it seemed like trying to would just be strange. It didn’t mean that it made her feel less guilty. 

“I think,” Katniss starts, clearing her throat, “That I should be thanking you. This is too much Peeta.” 

His eyes soften. “No it’s not. Besides, your mother paid us for the cake and the cookies. The bread is our gift. We weren’t sure how many people were going to be here tonight and Delly had not idea what kind of bread Prim and Rory wanted so she made me bring everything.” 

Peeta and Delly Cartwright (now Mellark) had been married for five years, and Katniss couldn’t think of a more well suited couple. Delly reminded Katniss of Prim, though Delly had less of a backbone - she, like Prim, had a heart of gold and Katniss wouldn’t have wanted anything less for her Boy with the Bread. 

Peeta rolls up his sleeves and goes into the kitchen, holding a small box and rummages around for a knife. “I bet you all are pretty busy today, and I am sure that there is way too much bread here, so please have some for breakfast.”

“Peeta you don’t -” Katniss starts, but she is cut off when he points a bread knife at her. His face is a playful scowl and Katniss remembers why she likes the boy so much. They aren’t exactly friends, but he is always so open with everyone that it is hard not to get along with him. 

“No buts.” He says, and calls into the other room. “I brought breakfast, who’s hungry?” 

Three heads poked out of the bedroom and Prim squeals delightedly when she sees the cake. 

“Peeta Mellark!” She says, hugging him tightly, “You have outdone yourself this time!” 

He laughs and hugs Prim right back. “Why thank you Primrose Everdeen. Nothing but the best for my wife’s doctor.” The two had gotten closer as Delly’s belly had gotten larger. She was due with their first child in a few weeks and could barely get through their front door. 

Prim gushes over the breads and selects the a small loaf with cranberries and nuts for tonight’s toasting. With that set aside, Hazelle and Peeta went to slicing the others and smearing them with butter before handing them out for breakfast. 

“Here,” Peeta says, handing Katniss a thick slice of bread. “This is your favorite, if I remember correctly.” She couldn’t make out what it was, but bread was bread and she happy with pretty much anything. She bites into the tangy, slightly salty roll and pauses, her eyes going wide. She drops the bread, and it lands with a small splat on the clean floor.

“What?” Peeta asks, concerned. Everyone is looking at her and suddenly, Katniss can’t breath. Her mind is spinning, darting back and forth between dreams and reality, past and present. She her lungs burn even as she sucks in large gulps of air. The bite of bread lodges itself in her throat and Katniss is sure she is going to choke. 

_“I’ll protect you. As long as you let me.”_

She can hear Gale’s voice, echoing like he has said the words earlier that day. Frantically, she looks around for him, even though she know that he wasn’t there. Then he is- standing in the door, tall and strong with dark hair and Seam grey eyes. 

“Katniss?” He asks, and the voice was too high. The face is wrong too, the jaw not as strong and the eyes were a colder grey. Rory, it was Rory. Not Gale. Gale was dead. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers as she pushes past him, running like a pack of wild dogs are chasing her. Vaguely she hears people calling her name, but Katniss wasn’t paying attention. She was lost in her memories and her pain. She doesn’t care where she is going, as long as it wasn’t that house. 

_They had been fighting again. Katniss hadn’t wanted to listen to another lecture from Gale as to why she couldn’t take this appointment from Snow, how she had to fight it and be strong and he could protect them both. He was wrong. He couldn’t. Gale hadn’t heard Snow’s threat, the promise in his words. He would come after them if she didn’t do this._

_That had been almost three hours ago. Katniss had expected Gale to come after her, but he hadn’t and she didn’t know if she was glad for the time to collect her thoughts or disappointed. All she did know is that she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore, or anything really from the hips down for that matter._

_It was early February and the powdery snow that covered the ground soaked through her meager sweater and pants. In her anger, she had run from the house, heading straight for their spot in the woods. She had grabbed her father’s hunting jacket, but the leather did little to insulate her from the freezing ground she was sitting on. Katniss was huddled against her rock, angry and cold, but she wasn’t ready to go back yet. Not until Gale saw reason._

_Perhaps she was too engrossed in her sulking or the fact that Gale was just too damn quiet for his own good, but she didn’t realize he is there until the heavy blanket fell about her shoulders. She looks up at him startled, but settles her face back into a glare, trying desperately to stay mad at him. Gale makes it difficult when he looks at her with a sheepish expression and holds out a small canister of something steaming._

_“Come to apologize?” She asks, taking the warm beverage from him. It was tea, something herbal from her mother’s cabinet, meaning that he had been at her house recently._

_“No.” Gale says, sinking down onto the cold rock next to her. As usual, he sits close enough so that they were touching from their shoulders to their knees and Katniss is grateful for the warmth._

_“I’m never going to apologize for trying to protect you, so don’t ask me to.”_

_They fall into silence as he fidgets with the small paper bag in his hand. Katniss hadn’t noticed it at first, but her curiosity is peaked as he opens it, closes it, and then opens it again._

_“Gale, I can take care of myself.”_

_“I know that, but I---” He sighs and pulls out a small, still warm cheese bun. It is her favorite, and something that had been exceedingly rare before the Hunger Games. He hold it out to her and Katniss takes it. The small bun was cut in half and toasted gently to give it a gold brown color._

_“Gale--” She starts, looking up at him fearfully. Toast. He was giving her toast. She wasn’t ready for this. They had only really started whatever it was they had a few months ago. This was too much. This was too fast. She didn’t want this, had never wanted this. Even if it was Gale, she just couldn’t._

_“Just listen Catnip.” His whispers, his voice steady. He doesn’t look at her and Katniss can see the hesitation etched on every plane of his face as he gazed at the rolling white hills of their woods. “I know that this is it for me. I think a part of me knew when you stumbled into my life four years ago. And I’ll take whatever you’ll give me. I know you never wanted a family or marriage and that’s fine.” He turns to look at her, and his grey eyes are so honest that she believes him. He loves her, would always love her and her love in return was enough for him. He gestures to the small toasted bun in her hand. “I promise everything that comes with that. You and I are a team. Put whatever other titles you want on that, or don’t, but we’re in this together. Until I leave, you are mine and I am yours.”_

_Katniss’ words stick in her throat. ‘Until I leave....’ That was the end of the Toasting vows, what she was holding in her hands was toast, and this place was the closest to a home that the two of them ever had. Her heart pounds in her chest. Gale was pledging himself to her, even if she could never say the words back, even they never had kids, he was promising her forever._

_She doesn’t even have to think about it as she raises one small half of the now cold bread to his lips. His hand is warm on her wrist as he holds the bread steady, crunching lightly through the crust as he takes a bite. He is still looking her right in the eye, and Katniss knows that this was how he had always seen her, how he had always seen them._

_It made his arguments against her going to the Capitol so much more understandable. She knows why he hates the idea. He saw her as his, his lover, his partner, his...everything. And Katniss knew that the feeling was mutual._

_“I’ll protect you. As long as you’ll let me.” Gale whispers._

_“That may be a very long time.” She whispers back, and she leaned forward, taking a bite from the bread, chewing slowly. This was her own promise - not with words, those were always too hard for her, but with action. The smile on his face as he kisses her was enough to know that he understood._

_“You know,” She sighs as he pulls away from her, “We are going to come up with a plan now. Snow isn’t going to like it when I don’t show up at the train station.”_

_“Don’t worry Catnip. We’ll figure something out. We always do.”_

The sun was high in the sky when Katniss came back to herself. Sweat had soaked through her dress and made her braid stick to neck, making her feel slick and dirty but it was the smell of fresh flowers and pine that brought her back. Slowly Katniss looks around, registering how far she had run - she had gone through the Meadow and under the fence to her and Gale’s meeting place. 

It was the first time she had come to the woods since Gale had died. The rock was too big for one person and she feels the space next to her acutely. Long ago there was had been a person there, sitting so close that she could feel his body heat as it seeped through her clothes. The whole place echos with his presence and she can almost feel him there with her. He would have been standing behind her, watching from the edge of the trees. 

The words are out of her mouth before she realizes that she’s talking. 

“I miss you.” Katniss whispers into the air. “And not just me - everyone. Especially today. Rory and Prim are getting married.” And with that, it is like a flood gate has opened. She talks about everything he’s missed - Posy growing up too fast for her own good, Vick training to be a healer, Rory’s stubborn nature and Prim’s smile. She cries and laughs and smiles - all the while seeing his face in her mind. He would be proud of them and so happy to see just how strong they all had turned out. 

“And me.” She sighs, leaning back on the rock. “I found someone. I didn’t mean too, but he just sort of snuck up on me. Maybe one day I’ll bring him here so you can meet him.” 

Standing up, she dusts off her skirt and turns to the south where their run of snares used to lay. “I’ll talk to you later Gale.”

And she would. Being here in the woods and talking to Gale had been cathartic. It was the first time she had thought about him and smiled. She’d have to tell Finnick. He’d probably make a joke about her talking to herself, but he’d be proud of her. 

Katniss walks back towards town. She’s a mess and needed to shower and change before tonight’s ceremony, but she was happy and her heart felt lighter than it had in awhile.


	5. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Welcome back! It's time to move the plot forward again - how exciting! I have to say, this chapter gets steamy (as much as I can bring myself to write), so be warned in case anyone isn't up for that. Otherwise, major changes are a foot for our lovebirds and the plot really gets moving now! It's time to head into the Hunger Games and yes, this story will move into the rebellion but MY version of the rebellion. I promise, there will be PLENTY of different and new events to keep people interested. (For example - I will be putting Katniss and Finnick on the front lines NOT propos. Ah, fight scenes, my favorite!) So be excited people, we are moving towards more angst, way more action and of course, sweet Katniss/Finnick moments. For now though, enjoy this update! 
> 
> Also, I mention how diamonds are formed and I know that this isn't accurate, so I apologize for taking a bit of poetic licence here. Also, all the plants I mention in the Hunger Games are real. Feel free to look them up or ask me for links if you're interested in learning more!
> 
> Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns everything.

Finnick sits down with Mags to watch the reapings. The first to be reaped are always Districts 12, 11 and 8 because they have the farthest to travel to get to the Capitol. Their broadcast is about an hour before the rest of the Districts, so it is possible to see them before the others started. Since most of the citizens are getting ready, it was one of the few things that isn’t mandatory viewing. Finnick and Mags always watch though - and today he is glad they had. 

In the 74th Hunger Games, the male tribute for District 12 is Vick Hawthorne. 

“Oh no.” Finnick whispers as the name is called. The reaction to his name is palpable, even through the screen. The quiet, beaten down crowd began to whisper - angry and passionate. Finnick sees the peacekeepers flank the young man, their hands tense on their weapons, but no one makes a move. Instead, as Vick takes the stage, the citizens of District 12 _salute_ \- kissing three fingers and holding them up to the sky. Finnick had never seen anything like that before, and as it cut out, he was sure that the Capitol would never let him see it again. 

“It’s going to be fine.” Finnick murmurs under his breath. His mind is already spinning - what were Vick’s strong points? Who would want to sponsor him? Since he had been cut off early, his air time would be almost non-existent, so no one would know much about him. That could be something they could use to their advantage. 

“Finnick.” Mags says. He looks over at the older woman to see the concern written across her features. She reaches out to take his hands. Finnick stares down at their joined hands when her thumb begins to run over his fists. He didn’t even realized that he was clenching them. 

“I’m fine Mags, just worried.”

He wants to call Katniss, but he knew they would already be heading towards the train. He would get to see her in a few hours, and by then he would have a plan.

***************

“Katniss, it is so good to see you again!” Caesar Flickerman says. Finnick pauses from talking to a female reporter to look up at the screen. This was the mentor interviews. While the tributes were in the Training Center, the mentors were interviewed to try to give people a hint of what was to come. Finnick had gone earlier today, but actually escaping from the reporters was always difficult. He had been caught on his way back, and it seemed that he was never going to be able to leave.

The camera cuts to Katniss. He can see the frayed edges of her Capitol mask, but she is holding up as well as could be expected. Finnick had seen her earlier; he held her as she cried thick, hot tears of anger and then the two began to put together a game plan. Haymitch was going to take over all the work with the female tribute and Mags was going to handle both the tributes from District Four. He promised that there would be enough money for Mags to buy anything she wanted, but any excess was going to go towards Vick.

Mags had nodded and said nothing when Finnick and Katniss proposed their plan. She had only given him a sad smile and touched Katniss cheek. This was repayment for him, he realized. Katniss had given her so much money, helped him so much in his own Games that Mags would do anything for her. 

There was a reason he loved that old woman so damn much. 

He and Katniss had also decided to keep Vick’s image as vague as possible. Unlike his brother Rory, he didn’t have experience with weapons. Vick was a healer - he apprenticed with Katniss’ mother and Prim - and according to Katniss he was a very gentle soul. His strengths were with plants, which would only get him so far in the arena. People wanted to support the strong, brutal victors or ones that had additional appeal. Vick was attractive enough, but lacked his brother’s strong jaw and piercing grey eyes, taking after his mother more than his father. All this meant that Katniss and Finnick have to _make_ him appealing in the eyes of the Capitol. 

A task that would not be easy given the competition. The Careers this year looked tough, especially those from District One. 

Finnick walks towards the TV, trying to hear exactly what is going on. 

“It’s always a pleasure Caesar.” Katniss says smiling. 

“Now Katniss. I have to say, we were all a little surprised when you embraced your male tribute. It was a very emotional scene. Tell me, are you and him close?” 

That hug - Finnick had been surprised to see it in the recap. They had taken out all the crowd reactions, but had spliced in pieces from what happened after the salute. Vick had shattered and Katniss had picked up the pieces. The young man was a good head taller than the petite woman, but she had collected him to her with practiced ease. It was touching and again, something unprecedented. 

“Yes, very.” Katniss replies. “Our fathers died in the same mining accident the year after Vick was born. Our families struggled to survive but we were able to because we helped each other. I practically raised him along with my sister Prim, who was 5 at the time, and Vick’s baby sister, Posy.”

Caesar reaches out a hand to Katniss. “This must be very hard for you.”

“It is.” Katniss’ voice is rough with emotion and Finnick knows that it is hard for her to show that to the Capitol. Letting them see this is harder than bearing her scars to the world.

Caesar releases her hand and sits back, his smile turning playful again. “With you two being so close, I bet he’s going to be a real treat in the arena. Can you tell us a bit about Vick?”

“Caesar, you should know by now that I never give up secrets. You’ll have to wait just like everyone else.”

“Girl on Fire, the perpetual enigma - I love it! But seriously, you won’t give us the tiniest hint of what’s to come?”

“Alright, but only because I like you so much.” Katniss says. Caesar's eyes grow wide and he sits forward. She leans over to whisper in his ear, which doesn’t mean anything because she was wearing a mic, and says, “Vick Hawthorne is going to win the Hunger Games.”

Her coy, confident smile is a ruse, but it certainly was going to have people talking later.

***************

The tribute scores don’t help their case. Vick scores a five - a _five_. Finnick and Katniss had done everything they could to talk him up a the parties. They had secured a few funds because people wanted to give them money and some because Katniss’ unwavering confidence in the boy made the betting pools interesting, but it was far from impressive. He had hoped the boy would show something innovative to the Gamemakers, but that hadn’t been the case.

He watches as Katniss straightens Vick’s jacket and messes with his hair as the boy preps for the interview with Caeser Flickerman. This was the one aspect that she wasn’t worried about. Apparently, charming ran in their family; a statement that made something in Finnick’s chest tighten. 

What would his life of been like if Gale Hawthorne - passionate, charming, handsome Gale Hawthorne - was still alive? He probably would have liked and loathed the man in equal measures. 

“Katniss, it’s going to be fine.” Vick laughs, swatting her hands away. He looks good; his olive skin and hair contrasting the pure black suit and blood red shirt well. It is a simple, elegant look but nowhere near as eye catching as the dresses that Katniss wore for her Hunger Games. Cinna, her designer had quiet after his one appearance - not that it had impeded his career at all. Since then, everyone had tried to follow in his footsteps but no one has quite captured his flawless drama. 

“Why are you the calm one?” Katniss grumbles, twisting her hands in each other just to do something with them. Finnick knows that feeling, an overflow of nervous energy that refuses to be contained. He reaches out taking her hand, letting his thumb trace over the smooth skin until she calmed slightly.

Vick’s eyes catch the movement with a raised eyebrow. The young Hawthorne hadn’t voiced his opinion about Finnick and Katniss’ more affectionate actions behind closed doors, but he had been watching them very closely. He had looked shocked the first morning when Finnick wandered out of Katniss’ room. Nothing sordid had happened - they had fallen asleep after hours of planning, but the slightly hurt looked that passed over the boy’s face didn’t sit well with Finnick. 

A young woman comes to collect Vick to take him to the waiting area with the other tributes. She shoos Finnick and Katniss back to the audience and they take their seats but Katniss doesn’t release his hand from her vice like grip. 

She shouldn’t have worried. Vick was spectacular. 

“So Vick,” Caesar starts. “We haven’t had a victor from District 12 since Katniss Everdeen. Do you think you’ll be the next?”

“Katniss certainly does, and I’ve learned never to argue with her.” Vick says, smiling broadly. It is an easy smile and Finnick could tell that Katniss was right - Hawthorne boys really are charming.

Peals of laughter echo through the audience and Caesar laughs with them. “It must have been hard having the Girl on Fire as a surrogate sister. Was it ever intimidating?”

“Of course. This is Katniss Everdeen we are talking about. I am pretty sure her shadow is scared of her.” Another round of laughter. “But Katniss is always fair and she has the biggest heart of anyone I know. Her family is her life - the fact that I have to go into the arena is killing her.”

“She has shown unwavering confidence in you. She keeps telling us you are going to win the Hunger Games, but you only scored a five in the evaluations. A lot of people out there are starting to wonder if she’s right. Do you have anything to say to them?”

Vick turns and looks at the audience. His eyes are penetrating, like he could stare in the soul of each and every person there. “Carbon is pretty amazing. Add heat and pressure and you get coal. Add more and you get diamonds. I’m from District 12, so I am already coal, now just wait for me to become a diamond.”

“As intriguing as you mentor! Thank you Vick Hawthorne.” Caesar says as the buzzer goes off. The crowd cheers and even as the female tribute comes on, Finnick can hear whispers about diamonds.

***************

Every year, the Gamemakers try to out do themselves with new and innovative challenges. There have been everything from earthquakes to firestorms, but this year was something entirely different. This was perhaps the deadliest arena ever built.

At first glance it seemed to be similar to other arenas, a forest with a fresh water river flowing through the center. There are steep mountains to one side and an open field surrounding the Cornucopia. 

When Katniss sees the treeline she let out a sigh of relief. “Vick knows the woods. He can survive there.” 

He takes their advice and runs straight for the woods and keeps running. When he finally stops, they think it is because he is tired, but Vick is staring at something. To his left are thickets of large green plants. 

“What is he looking at?” Finnick asks Katniss. She shakes her head, and keeps staring at the screen. Vick shakes the light weight jacket that all the tributes wear so that it covers his hand and pulls at the leaves. A thick sap sticks to the jacket and Vick pulls his hand back quickly.

“Hogweed” He says, backing away slowly from the tall bush. He turns and run in the other direction. 

This happens often for the next few hours: Vick runs, stops, looks at a plant and moves on. Sometimes he secures clippings or berries, but most of the time he takes off in the other direction. It baffles Finnick and clearly the commentators whenever they would check back on him. 

It is getting dark on the first day when Vick encounters another patch of Hogweed. This time, instead of running, Vick takes off his jacket and covers his head so that no part of his skin is showing and walks into the thicket until he reaches a tree which he climbs and settles in for the night. 

It was a tree with relatively little cover, leaving Vick exposed and Katniss filled with worry. The Career hunt is going to start soon and all of Vick’s turning and backpedaling had left him closer to the Cornucopia than Finnick and Katniss would have liked.

The commentators are laughing, some even poking fun at Katniss and at Vick’s folly, but come morning no one is laughing. The Careers had found Vick alright, they had wandered through the bushes and trapped him in the tree, goading and chuckling at how they were going to kill him when he came down. Then the sun rose. As it peaked through the trees, the Careers started to scream. Their skin turned red then rapidly blistered, turning purple and black where the sap from the Hogweed had touched their flesh. One girl tried to gouge her own eyes out, as she ran from the thicket. 

People stop laughing at Vick then. As the Games progress, more and more tributes died and Vick remained unscathed. His knowledge of plants and medicines are saving his life - and drawing admiration from the commentators and sponsors alike. They practically throw money at him, allowing Katniss and Finnick to keep Vick well fed and watered. 

In the Arena, it wasn’t just the Hogweed that is deadly. There are bushes with 2 inch thorns that that trapped one tribute, making them an easy kill for a passing Career. One poor tribute encountered a plant with leaves with stinging nettles when he tried to use one to clean up after relieving himself. The poor boy screamed for almost a full day before he was put out his misery. Another tribute tried to eat a flower but it caused her to hallucinate and jump off a cliff.

Everyone holds their breath whenever a tribute touches a tree or picks a berry. No one knows exactly what was going to happen - which caused thriving betting pools at the parties. Even though the usual violence was absent from these Games, the Capitol still loves it - and more importantly, they love Vick. They are impressed by his intelligence and survival skills and charmed by his smile and almost enjoyment of the arena. He mulls over plants he’s never seen before and has a childlike excitement over rare and exotic plants. More than once he’ murmurs about trying to take some home to Prim to make ointments. 

He makes it easily into the final eight, his fan base growing by the hour. They interview Katniss - though she tries to keep it as short as possible to return to the Viewing Room - Prim and Mrs. Everdeen - both of which are very proud of the Vick, citing his work with them in the apothecary - and the rest of the Hawthorne family. None of them are surprised he is doing so well, showing the same confidence in him that Katniss did from the start. 

Things change on day nine. The female tribute from District 7, Abigail Monroe, tries to take cover under a tree that the commentators nicknamed the “little apple of death”. It looks like a harmless apple tree, but the fruit is poisonous. The male tribute from District 5 ate one and an hour later was coughing up blood. This apparently isn’t even the worse part of the tree. It also secrete a milky white sap that mixes with the rain and poured down on Abigail, burning her. Her screams tear through the Viewing Room. Finnick glances over at Johanna Mason, one of the mentors for District 7 and a friend of Katniss’. She is clenching her fists, but for once isn’t shouting profanities. 

Finnick is sure Abigail would be found quickly and taken care of - which she was - but not by one of the two remaining Careers, Abigail was found by Vick. Everyone is perplexed when he drags her from the tree and begins washing her wounds. 

“Why.” Abigail gasps as Vick scrubs the sap from her body. Her skin was red and raw and blistering in some places. 

Vick smiles at her, pulling out an ointment he had made a few days ago. It is wrapped in a large flat leaf and looks about as appealing as vomit. “No one deserves to go out like this.”

“I could kill you.” She rasps, her senses starting to return.

“You could.” Vick agrees, lathering the thick pink paste over every exposed section. “But you won’t have the strength to move for a few hours - which gives me plenty of time to help you and run away.”

Abigail passes out under his healing touch, and is surprised as anyone when he is still there when she wakes up. 

“Why are you here?” She asks, sitting up and moving away from him. She pulls out a knife and points it at Vick who holds up his hands in surrender.

“I know how good you are with those. I wish I could say I was too, but I am not. Actually, I pretty much suck at using any weapon. Katniss tried to teach me how to use a bow once and I hit more trees than animals. There are only eight of us left and you can be sure that the Gamemakers are going to make the last seven deaths as exciting as possible. So why don’t we put ours off as long as possible. We can watch each other’s backs - you with a knife and me by making sure you don’t touch anything else deadly.”

“You want to be allies?” She asks, amazed.

Vick shoots her one of his charming smiles. “Yep.”

Abigail agrees after a through questioning and it is a solid partnership. She’s not much of a talker, but Vick makes up for it, chatting away about the individual plants, their medicinal properties and how she could use them against their opponents. They do well together, setting up innovative traps that include paralytic flowers tossed on campfires, replacing safe food stores with poisonous ones and coating weapons on blistering saps. 

It’s not until three remain that Katniss realizes that Vick hasn’t killed a single tribute. 

“What is he going to do about Abigail?” Katniss whispers one night. Vick and Abigail were safely asleep in a tree, meaning that Finnick is able to convince her to rest as well. She curls up next to him, using his shoulder as a pillow.

“He’ll do what he has to. All victors do at some point.” Finnick whispers back bitterly. No one makes it out of the arena without blood on their hands. 

No one except Vick Hawthorne. 

The finale is torture to watch. The Career from District 1, Cato, hunts down Abigail and Vick with the help of the Gamemakers. They flush out the tributes by flooding the river, forcing them back up to higher ground and the Cornucopia. 

Cato is proficient with weapons and back at the Cornucopia and he has a plethora to deal with. Vick is quickly injured, a deep gash to the leg which left him limping and Abigail comes to his rescue, taking a hit that would have surely killed the Hawthorne boy. With Cato’s knife deep in her gut, she swipes her sap covered knife across his face, blinding him and then plunges the blade deep into his chest multiple times. 

The cannon sounds, and all that is left is to see who bleeds out first. 

Vick crawls over to Abigail, pawing at her oozing stomach wound. He is crying for her, begging her not to die.

“Hush you idiot.” She whispers, pushing his hands away from her stomach. 

“No. I can fix this.” Vick says, pulling his pack off and looking for ointment.

Abigail swatted the bag weakly. “I am practically holding my guts in my hand. Let me go. It’s alright. I wanted it to be you, you know. You are too good for this place.”

Tears are flowing down his face in thick hot streams when he stills suddenly. The camera zooms in and sees the handful of purple berries he holds in his hands. He smiles at Abigail then. “You are too.” He whispers.

Abigail seems to realize was he’s doing and reaches for his hand, knocking most of the berries free but he still manages to get a few into his mouth. Abigail paws at the ground and starts shoving whatever small berries she find into her mouth before the feed cuts out. 

Katniss is a mess and the whole Viewing Room is thrown into chaos. The commentators try to figure out what might be going on and they show reruns of some of the most exciting deaths.   
There is no news for hours. Katniss paces. The black circles under her eyes become more pronounced against her wan skin and her bloodshot eyes. Finnick does everything he can, but there is no comfort, only questions. 

When the live feed returns, it is Seneca Crane, the head Gamemaker. 

“Both tributes were taken from the arena after the feed was cut out. Every attempt was made to save them both, but due to extensive internal damage, Abigail Monroe was lost making Vick Hawthorne from District 12 the victor of the 74th Hunger Games.”

Katniss dissolves into a heap of relief and raw emotions in Finnick’s arms. He gathers her up and finally gets Katniss into a bed after 13 days.

***************

Katniss isn’t allowed to see Vick until the live Recap with Caesar, but the reunion is nothing short of spectacular. Vick picks Katniss up, swinging her around before putting her back on the ground. Buried into his chest like that, it’s hard to remember that she is 11 years older than the tall young man.

“You brought me home.” Vick says into her hair as he holds her. 

“You didn’t make it easy.” She bites back, but it’s softened by the catch in her throat. They allow Katniss to stay on the stage during the recap and Finnick can tell that she would have stayed even if they hadn’t let her. Vick and Katniss’ hands are, at the moment, fused together with Katniss drawing comfort and Vick drawing strength from the contact. 

Vick walks them through some of his thought processes and Katniss provides colorful insight as to what it was like looking at it from the outside. The whole event is charming and more uplifting than Finnick has seen it in a while. 

When it finally ends, there is veritable feast waiting in the District 12 penthouse. Bread and stews, a whole chicken, fresh fruit and roasted vegetables, three pies and multiple bottles of wine - one of which is quickly confiscated by Haymitch.

“The boy’s too young for booze anyway.” He says, laughing. Katniss reaches for it, but Haymitch pulls the bottle out of the way. “So are you Sweetheart.”

“Maybe eight years ago.” She grumbles, standing and going for another bottle of the dark liquid.

“I’m your mentor, so what I say goes. That will never change.” 

The two start bickering and Finnick laughs. He piles his plate high and leans back ready to enjoy the show, but he notices Vick looking at him.

“What?” Finnick asks, letting a smirk settle on his face. “Finding it hard to stop staring? Don’t worry, I have that effect on everybody.”

Vick shakes his head. “Just trying to figure out if you realize how special this moment is.”

That catches Finnick of guard. He had a feeling that Vick had been evaluating him, but never really expected the soft spoken young man to say anything to him. “It’s not every day I get save my girlfriend’s little brother.”

Finnick almost frowns at his own words. Girlfriend sounds too casual a term for what Katniss is to him but lover sounds like she is clumped in with the women from Capitol. Friend is completely off the mark - so what is she? Soulmate? Lifeline? Partner? 

Vick shakes his head and gestures over to the Haymitch and Katniss. Effie has joined in the argument now playfully trying to grab the bottle when it comes in her direction. “It’s that smile. She used to smile all the time. Then she was reaped and Gale died. I used to get so angry because I couldn’t get her to smile like that. Prim told me not to take it personally because Katniss only really smiled in the woods. I argued, because she was wearing a smile whenever she came over for dinner. It took me a while to realize it was because she was with Gale that she smiled. My brother’s death left a gaping wound in both our lives. Katniss filled the hole in my heart - becoming a sister and a friend, but I couldn’t do the same for her. That realization hurt so bad. I think I gave up on ever seeing her smile like this again.”

Finnick doesn’t know what to say. Katniss wasn’t particularly open with her feelings. More often than not her actions spoke more about her than her words. He had learned more about Katniss by what she done than what she had said over the years. It was why each and every verbal affirmation of her feelings meant so damn much to him. Every broken ‘please’, every heartfelt ‘stay with me’, every disarming ‘I love you’ was a challenge for her, but he had thought it was different with her family. He had thought the smile he heard in her voice when she talked about them, the pride and love that permeated her whole being, was easier for her but maybe it was because she was talking to _him_. 

She made his heart burst and break in equal measures. Finnick had the sudden urge to throw Katniss over his shoulder, drag her off to a bedroom and just _love_ her - showering her with kisses and words equally. Since that would have been rude - and he was already a rake in Effie’s eyes - he settled for reaching over and pulling Katniss close, kissing her with every ounce of passion he felt in that moment. She melted into him, breathless and happy; smiling softly when he pulled back.

“What was that for?” She asked.

“For smiling.” He said.

***************

Finnick awakens to the feel of her hands exploring the hills and valleys of his stomach. Her cool fingers touch softly, causing goosebumps to appear on his warmed flesh. They travel up the left side and down the right, pausing when they get to the barrier of his sleep pants. He feels her frown against his neck and he chuckles. Katniss pulls her hand away like it had been burnt.

“You are more than welcome to keep going.” He whispers into her hair, letting his hand start to wander down her back. Unlike him she was still in her overly large sleep shirt. His was somewhere on the floor, probably over by the chair in the corner if he remembered correctly. Katniss had flung it over there early in the night during one of their more heated session. Hands and lips had been everywhere, exploring every inch of exposed skin and his shirt had apparently been in the way of that. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” She mumbles and Finnick could have sworn he felt her whole body blush. For a woman who slept with strangers monthly, she was fairly restrained with him - almost shy at times. It was almost like she had never touched or been touched for her own pleasure before.

That thought shoots through him like ice water. She and Gale had been together in the months before his death and Finnick assumed that had meant they had _been together_ \- but what if they hadn’t? It would explain her hesitant touches, her exploring kisses, her tentative responses to him. It would also explain why she had been so adamant that he have his own experiences that year before Snow had gotten his talons into Finnick. 

“Katniss” He starts, but he isn’t sure how to ask. How do you ask if your lover was a virgin when she started her appointments. “Did you ---” He chokes on the words -- “touch Gale like this?” He finishes lamely.

She stiffens, sitting up. “Why is that important?” 

He rises, reaching for her. “I just -- I mean, I want to know if ---” He runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Dammit.” He hisses. Why was this so hard?

“You want to know if I slept with Gale.” She states, pulling her knees up to her chest, putting a barrier between them. 

“Yes.” Finnick whispers, hating himself for bringing it up in the first place. 

“No.” She says, her face blushing even as her eyes water. She hugs her knees closer to her. “We never had the chance. Before the Games, survival was the only thing on my mind. I tried not to love Gale but once he told me how he felt, I couldn’t _not_ love Gale and that terrified me. I didn’t know what to do, I had never...and then he died and I...”

Finnick reaches over, pulling Katniss to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Her hands cling to his back. “Me too. I’ll try to--”

“NO!” Finnick says pulling away. “Don’t force yourself Katniss. If you only want to kiss and pet and cuddle than that’s fine. I happen to like the fact that you can’t keep your hands off me.”

Katniss lets out a horse laugh. “I have no idea what you are talking about Odair.”

“Now Katniss” He says, grabbing her hands and putting them on his chest. “It’s not healthy to deny yourself. I wouldn’t want you dreaming about me without the proper references. Trust me, it is _much_ more enjoyable when you have actual experience to fall back on.” He leans forward then, letting his hands travel up her arms. “I know I think about how warm your skin is.” He nuzzles her neck. “How good you smell.” His lips attach themselves to her pulse, worrying the skin there until he’s sure she’ll have a mark. “How delicious you taste.”

She lets him push her back into the pillows. “And just what do you do with these experiences?”

“He cries himself to sleep all alone in the dark.” Comes a sarcastic voice. The two jump apart so fast that Finnick tumbles from the bed in a mess of blankets. He shoots a glare at Haymitch who is standing in the doorway smirking.

“What the _hell_ Haymitch.” He hisses. “Why didn’t you knock?”

Haymitch shrugs. “Effie did, _three times_ , before she came to get me. The poor woman was worried about what she’d see after you two love birds flew the coop last night.”

“What do you need Haymitch?” Katniss says exasperatedly. Only the full body blush belays her embarrassment with being caught by her mentor. 

“We are leaving for the train station in 15 minutes and while I’m sure most of Panem would enjoy seeing you two half dressed, I’m sure you’d like to at least put some pants on before we leave.”

“How kind of you.” She bites out. Haymitch takes all this in stride, waving as he exits the room.

Finnick stares at the empty door from his spot on the ground. “When you come to District Four I am taking you to a place where we can lock the doors.”

“Already making plans for the Victory Tour?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, placing the blankets on the bed. He wraps himself around Katniss from behind, halting her attempts to get dressed. She’s only succeeded in slipping a pair of dark pants on. “First I’m stealing you away from Effie and Haymitch.” Katniss hums in pleasure as he kisses her neck. “Second, I’m finally getting you out of your shirt.” He plays with the hem of the sleep shirt, one hand snaking upward to stroke the skin just above the waist of her pants. “It’s not fair that I’m always the one who’s half naked.”

Katniss laughs. “What happened to going at my pace?”

Finnick nips her ear. “You can keep your pants. I just want your shirt.” His hands move, one flattening on her stomach and the other teasing up her ribcage. 

She gasps, pressing herself even closer to him. “And--” Her voice catches as his thumb brushes the underside of a breast. “And if I decide you can have the pants too?”

An image of Katniss laying on his porch, her shirt hiked up past her bra and him taking off her pants flashes through his mind. He can hear the ocean in his ears and practically taste the salt on her skin. Unable to contain himself, he turns Katniss around and kisses her. He’s hard and she knows it, pressing her hips to his in promise. 

Finnick tears his lips away from hers. If he keeps kissing her and she keeps rolling her hips like that then he is going to take her right now, train be damned. He lets his head fall on her neck. 

“Why is the Victory Tour so far away?”

Laughing breathlessly, she runs her hands through his hair. “Six months is still better than a year.”

“Yeah,” He sighs. “But it is still _six months away_.”

“Well,” Katniss says, pulling away from him. “That gives you plenty of time to plan. Effie isn’t going to let you just walk away with me when we have such a busy, busy, busy schedule!” Her voice rises in pitch at the last few words in an attempt to sound like the exuberant Capitol woman.

“I’ll come up with something.” He says as Katniss finishes changing. She twists her hair into a quick braid and puts her sleep shirt and a few personal belongings in a bag. 

“Are you coming to the train station?” 

Finnick shakes his head. “Too many reporters.” Since Vick was this year’s winner, the media was going to follow the boy’s every move until he was settled into his new house in the Victor’s Village. 

“That’s probably a good idea.” She leans up to place a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you in six months.”

“Six months.” He repeats. She’s right, six months is nothing really, but it still can’t come soon enough.

***************

“Stop fidgeting.” Mags mumbles, smiling at Finnick. The train from District Five was set to arrive any minute and the station was filled with the welcoming committee, media, children with flowers, politicians and of course the District Four victors. Annie lets out a small giggle at his obvious anxiety.

He had been planning furiously ever since the end of the Hunger Games, wanting to make Katniss’ visit to his home perfect. Mags and Annie helped a lot, mostly keeping him reigned in and grounded. Even he had to admit some of his ideas had been over the top, but what they had   
come up with was going to be perfect. He was so excited that he hadn’t stopped smiling all week.

“She’s going to love it.” Annie says. She is probably Finnick and Katniss’ biggest supporter. He should have known - Annie is a die-hard romantic. She loved hearing old stories of sailors and their magical lovers and said Finnick and Katniss were living their own personal fairy tale. Her rose-tinted view of his life made him want to both laugh and cry. There was nothing magical about his life, but if his time in the Capitol could be called a nightmare then his time with Katniss certainly was a dream. 

“I look okay, right?” He straightens his white cable knit sweater. It was cooler than normal for January and he had almost cursed the sky when he woke up and saw the clouds. Rain would ruin so many of his plans. So far there hadn’t been a drop, but weather could change in a second here. Now he had to hope that Katniss had dressed appropriately. 

Mags snorted at him and Annie laughed. He knew he was being ridiculous. Katniss didn’t care how he looked but he needed this day to go off without a hitch. He wanted it to be like one of Annie’s fairy tales, a dream they could both look back on during the months until they were together again. 

The crowd cheers and he looks up, running another hand through his hair. The train had arrived. The media pushes to the front, lining the small carpet that lead to the stairs. The doors open and Vick steps out, smiling brilliantly and waving to everyone. He is dressed simply, but warmly and Finnick is glad to see that his stylist and prep team kept him slightly unkempt. Vick wasn’t unattractive but also he wasn’t built for sleek suits and cutting fashion. His charm was in his thoughtful words and sharp mind. Behind him Effie strolls along with short steps due to her too high heels chatting with Haymitch who of course looks just shy of a mess. Katniss is the last of the train. She is dressed down, keeping all the attention on Vick, like it should be, but he thinks she is beautiful. The dark pants and tailored cardigan are appropriately classy while being comfortable. 

She looks good, but there is a tense air surrounding her. Katniss is smiling, but he can see the tightness around her eyes as they shift over the crowd. He frowns wondering what had her so worried. 

Mags elbows him in the side and he tears his gaze away, realizing that Vick is standing before him, looking amused. This is where Finnick is supposed to shake his hand and welcome him to the district. Crap, how long had he been staring at Katniss?

“Welcome to District Four.” Finnick says, letting the words roll off his tongue confidently. He knows the cameras are on him and he slides into his Capitol persona. “I dare you not to love it.”

“I didn’t realize you were so concerned about what I thought.” Vick said, his eyes darting back to Katniss. “But I am sure that you have something amazing planned for us. Isn’t that your specialty?”

Finnick wants to laugh. Vick has picked up Katniss ability to speak on multiple levels and he knew the boy would be talking circles around the Capitol elite next year. It was going to be a joy to watch. “I always aim to please.” Finnick says, gesturing to the left. Vick steps forward, greeting the rest of the parade of people, smiling at each and accepting gifts and flowers from adorable little girls. 

As the group moves along, Finnick falls in line with Effie. “So Effie,” He says conversationally as they walk towards the line of cars waiting to take them to the Justice Building for Vick’s speech. “What’s the rest of the schedule look like today?”

She shoots him a skeptical look, but it melts when he gives her a devastating smile. He is rewarded with a blush and a cough. “Well,” She starts, her voice lilting musically, “Vick will deliver his speech, then we are due to have lunch with the mayor. Afterwards we are to have a tour of downtown followed by dinner with you and the other victors, a few other key officials from the Capitol, some of the district elite--.”

“And what time does the train leave exactly?” Finnick cuts in. 

“11 pm, but we should really be there by 10:45.” She says, not realizing that Finnick has stopped walking. She blinks, turning but is already being ushered into the second car. Finnick watches her go and waits for Katniss, pushing her towards the last car. 

“You really want to get in this one.” He whispers. She doesn’t protest, sliding in next to him. She is even less surprised when it turns left while the others turn right. 

He wants to asks what’s wrong, to know why there seemed to be hint of fear in her eyes as the other cars turned towards the Justice Building but Katniss turns on him, and there is nothing on her face but amusement.

“You really are kidnapping me aren’t you?” Her eyes sparkle with delight. “You know that Effie is going to have a fit when she realizes that I’m not there.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a whole crew of professionals to help me pull this off.” 

Katniss raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Finnick nods, inordinately pleased with himself. “Yes, really. Annie’s on Effie duty. Joseph, Annie’s brother is our driver. Wave to the pretty girl Joe.” - The driver chuckles and waves back with a rumbling “A pleasure.” - “Mags and Haymitch are covering for us at dinner. That just leaves you and me with eight hours of complete and utter freedom.”

“Eight whole hours?” She says mockingly. “How will we ever fill the time?”

Finnick smiles at her brightly. “I have a few ideas. For now, just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

She glances at the darkly tinted windows with a doubtful look. “At least the company will be good.” 

Finnick smiles and opens his arms for her, but Katniss leans forward with a playful smirk. “So Joe, tell me about yourself. I didn’t know Annie had a brother.” 

Finnick gives her an amused but appropriately hurt look. She places an appeasing hand on his leg, but continues talking to Joe. He really doesn’t mind. Katniss has a soft spot for Annie and enjoys hearing how the girl is doing, so Finnick isn’t surprised she starts grilling Joe for information. Finnick sits back, enjoying just being in Katniss presence as she and Joe talk for the rest of the car ride. He watches her closely, looking for any more hints of fear but whatever caused the anxiety seemed to have passed.

When the car finally comes to a stop, Joe sends him a wink. “I can see why you love her so much.” He says, earning a smile from Katniss. “Have fun you two. I’ll pick you up at 10:00 to take you back to the train station.” 

“Thanks Joe.” Finnick says, exiting the car. The wind whips him in the face and he’s glad he thought to grab the blanket in the trunk. Behind him, he hears Katniss get out. He can tell she has some quip on her lips but it dies when she sees where they are.

“I thought,” Finnick whispers, wrapping her up in his arms and the blanket, “That we could start with this.” 

The car had driven them down to the coast to Breaker’s Point. The tinted windows hide the landscape during the drive, all planned of course, so that she would get the best view of the ocean when she stepped out. The jutting rocks towered over the beach and if you looked back you could see the a good portion of town. District Four was so large that it had multiple cities all along the coast. Stockton was the largest city and it housed the biggest port, the Justice Building, the Victor’s Village and the train station. Almost 1/5 of the population of District Four lived in Stockton, including Finnick - even before the games. 

“Finnick.” Katniss breaths out, her gaze fixed on the never ending expanse of water. 

“It’s pretty amazing isn’t it.” He says, pressing his cheek to her hair. “No one here looks at it quiet like you do, but we all respect it.”

“I understand why.” On the cloudy January day, the waves looked almost black except for their white caps as they crashed onto the beach. He had wanted to take her out on the boat, maybe go swimming but the weather wasn’t going to allow it. He was glad that now that Mags had talked him out of that. The water wasn’t going to still anytime soon. 

Katniss shivers in his arms. The wind cuts through everything and the blanket isn’t enough. “Come on.” Finnick says, dragging her higher up the cliffs. Breaker’s Point was named for the rocks at the bottom. Many ships had met horrible fates at the base of these cliffs, so they had installed the lighthouse. It was one of three in the town and by far the largest. The large white brick building stood out against the dark grey rocks and brown grass. It was a well known make out spot due to its isolation, but he wasn’t going to tell Katniss that. 

It was infinitely warmer inside, especially once they got to the top. If climbing the tall spiraling staircase hadn’t done the trick, Finnick had secured a small space heater, among other things. He had set up a small, secluded cove of luxury just for them: candles for mood, blankets and pillows for them to curl up on and watch the sunset, a feast of District Four’s best - many of which had been prepared by Annie, excellent wine and of course, a view to die for. The whole top of the lighthouse was made of crystal, refracting the light of day and making it the whole ceiling look like a rainbow. 

Katniss looks around, her mouth open, touching everything - the pillows, the glass, the wine - with reverence. Finnick shuffles, slightly worried. “I had planned to take you down to the beach, but I think it is going to be too cold today.” He was going to take her down right around low tide and show her the caves at the base of the cliffs filled small rock pools brimming with life. It was one of his favorite places that only a handful of people knew about. It was the closest he could come to escaping the Capitol. 

“This is enough.” She whispers, turning to him. “More than enough.”

Finnick puts his hand on her cheek. “Next time then. There’s still so much I want to share with you.”

She kisses his palm. “Next time.” She agrees. “But how about some food now?”

“Oh yes!” He sits her down on the pillows, opening up containers of food. Each container was a delight to the senses, encompassing his favorite dishes and a few of Annie’s. He made sure there was a bit of everything: fresh oysters, mussels cooked in butter and herbs, seared scallops that are so delicate they would melt in the mouth, lusciously thick lobster bisque, and loaves of bread that crackle and steam when broken, and plates of greens. That was only dinner, he had another bag stashed away for dessert.

“This must have cost you a fortune.” Katniss murmurs but Finnick waves her off. 

“Not really. I actually caught a lot of it myself.” She stares at him shocked and he laughs. “How do you think I got so good with a trident?”

Katniss holds up an oyster. “I can see how taking down one of these would take a lot of skill.”

He snatches it from her and pries the shell open. “Everything about seafood takes skill.” He slurps up the oyster and holds out the knife for her. Katniss rolls her eyes at his wide grin, but takes the blade anyways. He watches her struggle for a moment, but she wedges the dull blade between the edges of the shell with a triumphant smile. 

“Clearly.” She says, tossing the other half of the shell at him. She reaches for the lemon then pauses. “Finnick, what’s this?”

He leans over, curious and sees a large, tear shaped pearl. It’s a beautiful off white and shines softly in the grey light of the afternoon. “A pearl. They are so popular in the Capitol that they started manufacturing them, but finding one is rare. You can open up hundreds of oysters and never find one. It must be your lucky day.”

Katniss smiles, holding the small pearl up to examine it. “Must be.”

The continue to work their way through the food until neither one of them can eat another bite. Finnick stretches out on to the pillows, “I can’t remember the last time I ate that much.” Katniss lays next to him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. 

“Keep doing it and you’ll get fat and then what will all the women in the Capitol say?”

“The horror.” He laughs, holding her close. 

The world darkens as the clouds finally unleash the storm they had been threatening all morning. The patter of the rain against the glass, the warmth of Katniss, and the fullness of his stomach lull Finnick into a happy daze. They talk about everything and nothing: Prim and Rory expecting their first child, Vick setting up an experimental lab in his living room to test out new herb mixtures, Annie trying to teach Finnick how to cook, and more. He’s content - beyond content - to spend the rest of the day like this, and then something changes.

A shift in the air and a stillness in the conversation makes him tense, acutely aware of Katniss’ body pressed against his: her hand plays with small bit of skin peeking out between his sweater and pants; her breath ghosts over his neck and chest as she burrows her face deeper into the crook of his shoulder; his hand has snuck under her shirt and he traces the smooth skin at the base of her spine, just below the rough scar tissue of her upper back. Finnick places a kiss in her hair, her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks and by the time he’s worked his way down to her lips the serene mood has been shattered and replaced with fervor and need.

He tastes the lingering sweetness of the wine on her tongue and smells lemon on her skin as her hands trails over his cheeks and back into his hair. Her kiss is intoxicating, her touch exhilarating, her taste addicting - and she is his. She is bottled fire and he just uncorked the lid letting in oxygen. 

“Finnick,” She sighs as he lets his hands travel higher, brushing against her bra. It’s rough under his fingers - lace, he realizes and he knows she had tried to prepare things just as much as he had. 

“Sweater.” He pants against her ear. He was pretty sure he meant hers, but Katniss began with the silver buckles holding his bulky cardigan closed. Groaning, he pulls his hands free determined to finally get her damn shirt off - and get a look at the lacy lingerie that she had picked out just for him - when he pauses. Katniss is staring at his chest her lips slightly parted.

“What?” Finnick asks, looking down quickly. He doesn’t see anything out of place - no stray piece of food or strange discoloration or growth or--

Katniss reaches up and runs her hand through the orange hair that covered his chest. “This is new.” The comment takes Finnick back. He guess it is. He hasn’t been called to the Capitol in over a month and he let every inch of hair grow out he could in the interim. His prep team always gave him hell over it, but he liked the small rebellion. 

“Is it a problem?” He asks. If it is, he’ll wax it all off. All she had to do was ask - he wasn’t all that attached to it anyways, it was just hair. 

“No.” Katniss says, letting her fingers play in the short, coarse curls. “I like it. It makes you seem more human and less...” She trails off, but he knows what she means. By the time his prep team had finished with him, Finnick felt more like a doll than an actual person. He hated looking in the mirror and seeing Finnick Odiar: Sex God. In fact it repulsed him so much he did his best not to look into a mirror the entire time he was at the Capitol - his self loathing and disgust were high enough while he was there without adding to it. 

Her fingers follow the line of hair as it funnels down into a single trail over his abdominals and vanishes into his pants. She curls her fingers around the waist of his pants and pulls him back down onto her, kissing him with a passion that sends blood directly to his groin. He can feel the heat of her hand through the fabric of his pants and he resists the urge to unbutton his fly just to feel more of the blazing warmth. 

Finnick pulls back, grabbing at the edge of her shirt. “You are not the only one who gets to explore today.” He whispers. She obliges, shrugging hurriedly out of her cardigan and lifting her arms so he can finally - finally - get the garment off. He tosses it back over his shoulder, relishing the victory, and gets his first good look at the places his fingers were already intimately acquainted with. She was everything he had imagined - from her small, pert breasts, hidden under a dark blue brassiere of silk and lace, to the flat planes of her waist that flared into full hips. He could see the edge of a matching set of silk underwear past the unbuttoned pants that had already shifted down. When had he done that?

His hands travel known paths and his lips eagerly followed, delighting in the way her body bucks and shifts under his administrations. He loves the way Katniss gasps out his name and her hands move with earnest over his back and shoulders. She tenses every time he get close to her breasts, but he lets them be for now. He knows he will enjoy them later, but he wants to get a glimpse of the full set of lingerie. 

Finnick doesn’t waste any time in removing her pants and if the way she kicks off her shoes tells him anything it was that she is as ready for this as he was. Sitting back, he admires the full package, letting the image of her tossed among the pillows, barely dressed and thoroughly ravished by him, sear itself into his memory. This would replace every half formed fantasy, every hazy dream, every taunting thought. It burns through him like a bonfire and the last of his restraint is gone. 

He has earned this - a sliver of happiness in a world of unending nightmares. He needed this just as much as she did to wipe away the horrors of the Capitol and replace them with something beautiful. He loses himself in her body, lavishing every inch of it with kisses. The bra and underwear are quickly discarded and his pants follow. They burn like a wildfire as they come together, each as impatient and desperate for the joining. The world falls away, taking with it all his worries and fears, leaving only the incandescent presence that is Katniss Everdeen. 

“I love you.” Finnick whispers, as he drifts off to sleep happily exhausted. Katniss is pooled next to him and he feels her smile into his neck as she holds him tightly. He feels more than hears her response; the same three words whispered into his skin.

***************

Finnick awakens to a bright light, undulating back and forth. The sun had set and the lamp had turned on, illuminating the entire room. Stretching, he reaches for Katniss but finds himself alone in the bed of pillows. Not seeing his sweater, Finnick decides to wrap himself up in their only blanket. He spots Katniss the starring out the windows, watching the ocean. She looks like a character from a story; a widow waiting for her marnier to come home, only to be left waiting forever.

There is something heavy on her mind and Finnick doesn’t like it. 

Walking up to her, Finnick tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She gives him a small smile as she buries her face into the collar of his sweater. “I was wondering where that had gone.” He said, smirking at her light blush.

“Sorry. I just wanted to watch the ocean.”

“I like to do that to. I can see it from the porch of my house. On calm nights, the sound of the waves are comforting. I miss it when I am at the Capitol.” The ocean was freedom to him - a force that no one could control. It always did what it wanted - took what it wanted - never bending to anyone’s will. One day he would be like that, even if it killed him.

Katniss looks up at him with a curious expression. “You really love the ocean, don’t you?”

Finnick shrugged, “I grew up by the sea. It’s home. I bet you feel that way about District 12.”

She hugs herself tighter and Finnick almost loses the words in the thick wool of the sweater. “I used to feel that way about the woods, but not District 12.”

Finnick can feel the pain in her words and he wraps her up in his arms. There is a weight on her shoulders and he wants to take it from her. “Well, if you like the ocean so much, you can come to live with me here in District Four. We can live in a house by the sea, up north closer to the large redwood forests. I’ll buy a boat. We can spend our days fishing or just wandering along the coast and on weekends we can go hiking in the woods where the trees are bigger than the buildings in the Capitol and wider than a train.”

Katniss scoffs. “That’s a nice dream Odair. Are we going to tear down all the fences and walls around the Districts too?”

“Things are happening Katniss.” Finnick says, angling her face up to look into her eyes. “Can’t you feel it. Ever since Vick won --” She pulls herself from his arms, pacing circles around the small room. “What?” Finnick asks, grabbing her by the arms. “Katniss what’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t tell you over the phone, but Snow approached me. He told me to keep Vick in check. There have been uprisings, all because of Vick’s stunt with the berries. And then in District 7 they--” She stops, pulling herself from Finnick’s arms. “He hadn’t even said anything yet and they gave him the District 12 salute. There was this angry silence and then one of the Peacekeepers shot. It was chaos and we were carted out of there immediately.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to forget! Last time I fought I lost Gale and I know you, you’ll want to fight. I just want to run away. I want to protect everyone and _I can’t do that_.” For the first time ever, Finnick Odair watches Katniss break. The terrified, lost look on her face shocked him to the core. She fell in on herself, curling into a ball and holding the sweater around her like a protective barrier. “Snow is going to come for them, come for you, and I won’t be able to do anything.”

Finnick falls to the floor in front of her, trying to find the words. She is right, if he could, he would fight. He had learned to hate and fear the Capitol from a young age. They had loomed over the District like a dark cloud, controlling every aspect of life in District Four with an iron hand. All fishing boats were registered, tracked and inspected before and after every trip. If a boat was thought to be running, they were shot out of the water. If they were back after curfew, the Captain lost a hand. Minimum catches were enforced with imprisonment and beatings; if you stole from the docks, the punishment was worse. This was reason enough for him to want to fight, but the Capitol had taken his humanity and dignity. They ripped his sanity to shreds and destroyed his sense of self-worth and the only reason he was still standing was crumpled on the floor. 

Hell yes, he was going to fight. He wanted a future. He wanted to heal - really heal. He wanted to have more than unobtainable dreams - he wanted to have hope, and if that meant he had to do it for both of them he would. Katniss had carried him after his Games and now he would carry her. 

“Katniss.” Finnick says, holding her tight to him. She clings to him, fisting her hands in the thick blanket. “I am too valuable to Snow and he can’t touch me without serious backlash from the Capitol. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

She doesn’t say anything but he knows she is thinking about Gale. Gale had promised her everything out be alright, that Snow wouldn’t be able to touch them and he had died. Unlike Gale, Finnick had the protection of the media, his clients and Snow’s greed. If Snow went after anyone for what was happening it would be the Hawthornes, but Finnick doubted he would even do that. If things were as bad as Katniss said then Snow had more pressing issues than a few victors in a backwater district. Once they were back in District 12 then they would be contained and no threat to Snow’s regime. All the danger came right now when they were in the spotlight - Finnick now understood why Katniss had been so on edge earlier.

Finnick kisses her, willing every ounce of confidence and strength he has into the embrace. He whispers soft words, strong words, and soothing words - anything he can think of until the shaking stops. Her hands slide the blanket from his shoulders and his sweater soon follows. They come together in rush of pleasure and fear. Desperation colors their lovemaking and Finnick would have sworn he could taste misery on her lips and hear it in every broken gasp.

***************

Finnick watches as Katniss put herself back together layer by broken layer. If she hadn’t been holding on to his hand so tightly, he would have thought nothing was wrong. She smiles at Joe and tells him about the amazing food Annie had made and the view from the lighthouse. He in return gave her a quick history of the building and some of the legends surrounding it.

As they pull up to the the train station, Katniss looks out at the platforms and the brightly colored woman pacing by the open doors. Effie had probably worked herself into a panic, but Finnick doesn’t really care. She could wait a few more minutes. 

“I don’t want to go.” Katniss whispers. She hadn’t let go of his hand the whole trip. Her free hand is fiddling with the pearl, running it between her forefinger and thumb anxiously. 

Prying her fingers off, Finnick quickly slips out of his sweater and drapes it over her shoulders. That breaks Katniss out of her distressed haze and she looked at him questioningly. 

“One night, things at the Capitol got bad. You had just finished a trip and I had been carted off before I could even call you. It had been a whole month since we had talked and I was on the edge of doing something stupid. I don’t remember going upstairs, but I remember being in your bed. It helped me get through the night. It was like you were there with me and if I closed my eyes I could almost feel you sleeping next to me.” Finnick takes the hand with the pearl and kissed her fist. “Whenever you feel unsteady, just close your eyes and know that I am with you, even if we are far apart.”

Nights were always hard and the silence was the worse part. The feeling of being alone and lost in the darkness had consumed him before and that night it had been so much worse. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had been on the edge. It was the comfort of her scent that brought him back to his senses. Smell is a very powerful trigger. It cut through the cloud of nightmares so well that he had spent the next week sleeping in her bed, until the room didn’t smell like sandalwood and citrus anymore. Finnick knows nights are just as bad for Katniss - she still wears Gale’s shirt to bed. The sweater would never replace that, and he doesn’t want it to. He wants to build on it, creating higher walls and thicker fortifications until the nightmares can’t touch her. 

Katniss kissed him softly, lingering against his lips. “I’m with you too.” She whispers and then she is gone, running through the rain. Even from here he could hear Effie’s cry of relief as Katniss is shuttled on to the train and out of sight for another six months.


	6. Third Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello! Here's the next installment. Again, it is an interlude, a bit between the story. This time I focused on Vick and Katniss as well as the start of the revolution. Haymitch gets to be, well, Haymitch in this chapter - Katniss' voice of reason, you might say. I really enjoyed writing this, I think it has a very different feel from the rest of story. It will set up the next few sections well since we are moving into more action and of course, the rebellion. Don't worry, there will still be plenty of Katniss/Finnick moments (I've already written one of my favorite scenes in the next chapter!) 
> 
> Please enjoy and don't forget to leave a comment.
> 
> Disclaimer: All rights, characters and world belong to Suzanne Collins.

Haymitch doesn’t know who is more upset: Vick Hawthorne, who keeps reaching out to clutch Katniss’ hand as she walks by, Katniss Everdeen, who paces the car with wild eyes, or Hannah Sunder, the female tribute who is staring at the wall with dead eyes. The girl knows exactly who Katniss was going to support - and it isn’t her. 

Wasn’t this just peachy?

Effie sits primly next to him, watching the whole mess of emotions play out. She looked just as lost as Katniss, not understanding how to navigate the minefield before her. “How about some food? I’m sure that --”

She is cut off with a glare from Katniss. The poor woman winces, adjusting the hem of her dress before standing. She can’t look at Katniss - the anger and betrayal written plainly across those dark Seam features are too much for even Effie’s unflappable enthusiasm. “I am going to lay down. I will see everyone at dinner and we can discuss the schedule for the next few days.”

Not waiting for an answer, the escort hurries out of the room. Haymitch sighs and reaches for the bottle of whiskey stashed behind the bar. It’s stronger than most of the wine that they keep on hand and he knows that Effie got if for him. As much as the woman protested his drinking, she kept him well supplied.

“You going to blame the sun for shining too?” He says, pouring himself a generous glass of the dark liquor. 

Katniss eyes snap to him. “What are you trying to say Haymitch?”

“You shouldn’t blame Effie.” Vick whispers and Katniss sends him the same betrayed look that had haunted her for the last few hours. 

“ _She_ drew _your_ name!” 

“It was pure luck - bad luck, but still...” Vick grabs Katniss hand and forces her to sit down. “She didn’t know Katniss.” 

“It’s still her fault. I can’t forgive her.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Haymitch asks past the edge of his glass. Katniss is up in a second. She takes the glass from his hand and throws it across the room. It crashes loudly against the wall and the expensive liquid soaks into the equally expensive carpet.

“Sweetheart, what have I told you about wasting good liquor?” There is an edge to his voice, even Haymitch can hear it and Katniss doesn’t reach for his next glass as he pours a solid three fingers worth of whiskey in it. Good. That means she still has some sense. “Look, Effie drew the kid’s name. Who cares? She’s not the one who put it there. We don’t have the time or the energy to be bickering among ourselves. If you want to save his skin then we have to come up with a plan - _together_.”

As much as he hated to admit it, they were a team: Him, Katniss, the tributes and Effie. She did a whole hell of a lot more than just picking the names. She helped them find sponsors and kept up those relationships the rest of the year. Katniss could only do so much - give up so much - on her visits, but Effie kept her perfectly manicured fingers on the pulse of the Games year round. She recruited prep teams and found up and coming fashion powerhouses to be their stylists. She even hired the cooks that worked the trains, making sure she had everything they needed - from Haymitch’s booze to Katniss’ favorite lamb stew. She was a big part of why District 12 wasn’t the brunt of every joke these days. 

She works hard and in her own twisted, naive way, Effie cares for the tributes - and that is a lot more than he could say about most people in the Capitol. 

Katniss doesn’t back down until Vick comes up and takes her in his arms. The boy towers over her, curling around her like a cocoon of protection. “I know you’ll bring me home, but it’s not a one person job.”

“Alright.” She finally relents. “Where do we start?”

***********************

“They just looked so happy.” Vick says, sighing as he sits down. His sleep shirt hangs limply from his hands as he stares across the bedroom. “The boy from Two -Cato - he _smiled_ as he beat on the instructor. With his bare fists.”

Katniss crosses the room, sitting beside Vick. It is only day one of training and he was already shaken. She remembered seeing the careers for the first time - their bloodlust still haunts her dreams. In the worst ones, she becomes them.

“Alright. Stay away from him.” She reaches across and puts her hand on his, pulling him back to the present. His eyes are slightly wild and for the first time since the Reaping she can see the fear there. He’s realized exactly what he is up against and how incredibly horrible his odds are. 

She swallows, trying to keep the same fears from peeking through. Vick doesn’t need that. She is supposed to be strong for him - guide him, support him and get him out of there alive. If she doesn’t believe that it could happen then how can he? 

“Did you hit up the survival stations like I told you to?”

“Yes. Focused on fire making and knots. I even listened to the instructor at the plant station for a while, but he was an idiot. If I had stayed there any longer I would have probably started lecturing him. Can you believe he was trying to tell me that chewing willow bark will help with wounds? At best it will just dull the pain and at worse it will make the bleeding worse!”

She lets him rant, going on about more specific interactions between plants and the human body. The talk, while mostly over her head, brings a light back to his eyes. She can feel the slight tremor in his hands fading as he talks about calendula and some new infusion Prim was working on. 

Plants really is his only strong point in the arena and she doesn’t know how to spin that in such a way to get him more sponsors. Right now she was being as vague as possible, trying to lure funding by appealing to the Capitol’s curiosity, but that could only last so long. As soon as his score came out she was going to have to be on damage control and then there was the interviews and---

“Katniss.” 

She jumped, and looked down, realizing she had taken his hand and was squeezing it - hard. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I get it.” 

He looks like he is about to say something else, but she cuts him off. The guilt eats at her as he looks at her with eyes tinged with the edge of hysteria. It’s hard to remember if this fear is worse or better than that which lingers. How will he deal with it: the dreams, the flashbacks, the hallucinations? Will he ever return to the boy he was. No - she knows this, but she has to hope. 

She gets up, giving his hand one last squeeze. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

He nods and there is still shadows in his eyes, but that will never change - not now, not ever. 

Hot, angry tears stream down her face, and Katniss almost doesn’t see Finnick until she is wrapped in his arms. 

“He’s not dead yet Katniss.” He whispers into her hair and she clings to that.

***********************

Vick’s arm still hurt from where they inserted the tracker. His thumb absently runs over the incision, feeling the bump under his skin. Every time he brushed it, he was reminded that this was real, this was happening, that this - like everything else in the last week - wasn’t a dream.

“It’s time.” 

He looks over at his stylist, Gaius with his blue hair and golden tattoos that curve around one eye and down his cheek, and the man looks at foreign as his words. It takes a heartbeat for their meaning to reach Vick’s clouded brain and he raises and follows the Capitol man down the ramp and through sterile halls. Two Peacekeepers flank them and with each step there is a dawning realization that sweeps over Vick. 

In his last peaceful moments, these three people will be the last he sees. Not Katniss. Not Rory. Not his mother or Posy or Prim but these strangers. His hand reaches towards his wrist and the small braided bracelet that Posy had given him. It had been a birthday present. The wool had come from Lady, Prim’s goat but Posy had dyed and spun the yarn herself. She had been so proud and had shown him the matching one she had tied into her hair. Rory had one as well, so they would all be together - always. 

Vick had the sinking suspicion that she had been thinking about Gale when she had made it. She was only four when he died, so she didn’t have many memories of her eldest brother, but even she felt his absence acutely. Ever since she had turned twelve, Posy had been so much more aware of the fragile nature of their family. Like every child of Reaping age, she knew that her life could be snatched away for the Capitol’s whims. He had hated the bitter edge that her words took on when talking about the future, but even with fear colored words, Posy did her best to stay strong. She was just like their mother, never giving a single inch unless she decided to. 

She was a Hawthorne - strong, unyielding, and tenacious - and so was he. 

Vick willed his hands to stop shaking and decided to ignore Gaius’ airy final words. His eyes were fixed on the two Peacekeepers - dressed like two white Grim Reapers - by the door. As poor as his chances were, he wasn’t going to let this be his last goodbye. 

Gale would have never let it, Katniss hadn’t, so neither would he.

***********************

Prim looks over at her mother with a small smile and a laugh. “Are we surprised that he made it to final eight? Is that really the question you want to start with?”

Someone off camera says something that the microphones don’t pick up but Mrs. Everdeen smiles politely. “What Prim is trying to say is that no, we aren’t surprised. Vick is a very bright, resourceful boy. If there was anyone who would do well in this arena it’s Vick.”

“Yes.” Prim interrupts. “I don’t think the Gamemakers realize how much of a gift they have given him. Vick has been my mother’s official apprentice for almost three years now, but he’s been helping out in the apothecary since he was ten - and that’s only because we couldn’t keep him out. Vick has actually made most of the poultices, brews and remedies that we currently stock. He’s always looking for ways to make them more effective. He has a drive, that most people lack. Not everyone has seen that before, but they definitely do now.”

Another question off screen and the two women look at each other. “Yes and no. I think Katniss pushes him to be better, but his passion is a familial trait. He gets that from his brother. Vick tries his best to live up to him.” 

Mrs. Everdeen turns to the screen, queued by the interviewer. “If I could say anything to him right now, I would tell him how proud we are of him. He is showing everyone that you don’t have to be the strongest or the biggest to make a difference.”

“Me?” Prim says when it’s her turn. “I would say ‘Stay strong.’ Everyone here in District 12 is rooting for you, and I know Katniss is doing everything she can to help you. Just don’t give up.”

***********************

“Vick Hawthorne? You want me to describe ‘im in one word? Hmm...” Greasy Sae scratches her chin in thought. “Charmin’. Him and every other one of those Hawthorne boys. They could charm the pants off a Peacekeeper.”

***********************

“I just want him to come home.” Posy says to the camera. Beside her, Hazelle Hawthorne puts her arm around her youngest. The age certainly shows on her face and in her worn hands, but her eyes are bright and steady.

“We all want that.” She says, holding Posy closer to her. “Vick is a very important member of this family. After his father died, our family struggled. Posy was just a small child and Rory and---well it was hard to find a reason to smile. Vick never had that problem and he brought laughter back into this home. He has done that for a lot of people over the years.” 

A silent question makes Rory scoff. “Look, if Katniss says he’s coming home and Vick says he’s coming home then he’s coming home. End of story.”

“Of course I’m worried.” Rory sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He’s my brother, but I have faith in him. He’s so much smarter than me - always has been - and that’s why he’s going to win. He’s got more brains on him than the rest of that bunch put together and that counts for something. A lot of somethings actually.” 

Posy cuts in. “I have faith too - and when he gets home, I’m going to be the first person to welcome him back.”

***********************

“I’ll take watch first.” Vick says, even though he’s slightly distracted. The cave they have turned into their base of operations is fairly safe, with one well hidden entrance. His focus is solely on the plants he had set out to dry earlier. The foxglove had almost dried completely and would be ready to powder in by morning. Mixed with the poison ivy he found earlier, it should cause an attacker to not only be temporarily blinded, but incapacitated with headaches and rashes for a while afterwards allowing for an easy escape.

“You always do that.” Abigail whispers, even as she is pulling her jacket closer against the oncoming chill of the night.

Vick blinks, turning his confused gaze to her. “What?”

“You volunteer for first watch.”

“Sorry?”

Abigail lets out a huff of annoyance, shifting deeper into the thin jacket. “I know you’re tired. You don’t have to be such a damn gentleman about everything.” 

“You’re the one who is doing all the hard work.” He says, thinking back to earlier. He had been useless during the raid - not that he really had the stomach for it. He had spent most of the night before making the paralytic powder - two parts azalea flowers and one part larkspur root. He had been so tired that Abigail had forced him to stay in the bushes while she ambushed the boy from 11. He hadn’t argued. 

Whenever Abigail had done any killing, he was never a part of it. She kept finding excuses for him to be out of the fighting and he was eternally thankful for it. He was a healer, not a killer. At least, that is what he tried to convince himself of. The longer he was in the arena, the harder it it was. Abigail was deadly, there was no doubt about that but he had made her deadlier. It was his poisons, his weapons, that changed her into such an efficient killer. The blood of the dead was as much on his hands as it was hers. 

Vick’s hands shake and he shoves them into his pants. “Besides,” He says, forcing a smile on his face. “You have to deal with me all day and that has to be exhausting.” 

Abigail rolls her eyes. “And that. You are always making jokes. How can you keep smiling?”

“Prim says smiles are the best medicine and so I’m just trying to keep myself healthy.” 

“You’re an idiot.”

“No. I’m resourceful.”

“And obnoxious.” 

“Or charming. I’ve heard it both ways.” 

Abigail glares at him but says nothing else. Vick smiles one more time at her and then turns back to his plants, pulling out the new ones they had found earlier.

***********************

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Abigail says, holding the powder up to her nose. Vick quickly slapped it away and one of the three small pouches splattered across the ground. That was three days worth of work ruined, but he didn’t care too much.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He asks, grabbing her face and checking to see if any of the powder had gotten on her or worse, in her. Abigail snatches her face away from him.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem? Weren’t you listening when I told you about these.” He points to the other two pouches at her waist. “That is Devil’s trumpet. Reported side effects include paranoia, intense hallucinations, violent behavior, photophobia and...” He trails off when he sees her blank look.

“Yes,” He sighs. “It’s a nightshade and it’s going to work. You sprinkle that on their food and the Careers won’t have any senses left. If you decide to attack them, it should be pretty easy.” The words tasted like bile in his mouth, but he kept telling himself that he was doing this to even the odds and give Abigail a fighting chance. If he thought about it any other way he might just lose it. 

“Alright.” Abigail says pocketing the two powders. “And what about you? Can you outrun them long enough for me to sneak into camp?”

Vick holds up a pile of young, healthy green wood. “By the time the smoke from the fire is visible I’ll be long gone. You just make sure you move quickly.”

“I will. Don’t want to be caught by the three of them.” 

It as down to them and the Careers. They had found their cave last night, forcing Abigail and Vick to abandon it. It was coming down to the final and if they wanted to survive it they needed some advantage over the people that were unnaturally good with weapons. 

Abigail turns to leave but pauses and looks back over her shoulder. “Hey Vick?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t die.”

***********************

There were only three left: Cato, Abigail and Vick. The Gamemakers hadn’t pushed for a finale yet since with the death of the other Career, the girl from District Two earlier that day. Cato was furious and was on the prowl for the pair, but he was going the wrong direction.

Katniss lets out a sigh, watching her two tributes - yes, she was thinking of Abigail as hers - eat some leftover bread and jerky she had sent them the day before. She was exhausted and hadn’t really slept in days. The seat next to her squeaks and the smell of stew assaulted her senses. 

She turns, ready to tell Finnick she wasn’t in the mood for food but it’s not him. Shoving soup into her mouth with a wide grin is Johanna Mason, one of the District Seven mentors. She puts her feet up on the console and stares down Katniss, daring her to do something about it. 

“Johanna.” Katniss says, leaning back and crossing her arms. They were...friends? Frankly it was hard to tell with Johanna and Katniss didn’t try too hard. The woman was crazy, not that Katniss blamed her after what Snow had done. Johanna was the only person that Katniss knew that had turned down Snow’s post game proposal. As a result he had killed her entire family. 

“Brutus hates you, you know. Well, your boy. Not that I blame him.”

“Vick’s helping Abigail and you hate him?” Katniss says, raising one eyebrow in amazement. 

Johanna shrugs. “No, well, maybe. He is a bit hard to swallow. With his whole healer-of-all-who-are-in-need act, but it’s not an act is it? He’s just that....good.” She shivers at the last word and shoves another bite of stew into her mouth. “How can you deal with that on a daily basis?”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “Very easily. You should try it some time. It might be good for your health.” 

“No thanks, but if you want to put your other boy up for offer I won’t turn _that_ down...Hey gorgeous.” She shoots a smile and a wink over Katniss’ head and she turns to see Finnick walking up with a loaf of bread under one arm and balancing two cups in his hands. 

“Hey Johanna. Causing trouble?” He says casually as he puts down the soup. Katniss looks at it distastefully for a minute but then her stomach growls and she gives in. Wasting food is practically a crime in her book anyways, but with how the last few days had gone, it might just come back up anyways. 

“Always.” Johanna says, leaning forward and tearing off a chunk of Finnick’s bread. 

“Any change?” He asks, placing a piece of bread in Katniss’ bowl before she even asks for it. 

“No.” She says, glancing back at the main television screen. “Cato is still rampaging and Vick is on watch. I don’t think Abigail’s really sleeping though.” 

“Good. She should be worried. It’s down to three now. If I were her, I would just put an axe in the golden boy’s back and be done with it. It’s going to come down to her and and Cato anyways.” 

“Johanna!” Finnick hisses and Katniss pushes the stew away, her appetite completely gone now. 

“What?” She mumbles over another mouthful of food. “We are all thinking it - including them. Do you really think he’s going to make it out of there? If they take out Cato, then Abigail is just going to turn around and kill Vick. She’s a survivor with nothing to lose. Just be glad she’ll take him out quickly.” 

“That’s enough Johanna.” Finnick says, but it’s pointless. It is what they are all thinking. Vick wouldn’t kill Abigail. Katniss knew it in her gut. She had seen the way he looked at her. He cared for her, just like he cared for everyone. His heart was too big and if it came down to it, Vick would do the selfless thing and let her kill him. 

She stands up, pushing back the chair violently and exiting the Viewing Room as fast as she can. Three bites of stew and one bite of bread are threatening to come back up and frankly Katniss doesn’t have the energy to deal with the fallout of everyone witnessing _that_.

***********************

Two possible victors.

Snow’s lip curls unhappily at the thought. The implications of that particular outcome are unpalatable. To give hope to the masses is dangerous, almost as dangerous as destroying it completely. People with nothing to lose are unpredictable. Johanna Mason is a good example of that.

As tempting as it is, he can’t let both Vick Hawthorne and Abigail Monroe to die. The question is, which to leave alive? 

Abigail Monroe posed the more attractive option. While she had tried to save her fellow tribute by dying faster, she had still played by the rules. She was ruthless and if she was anything like her mentor, her abrasive attitude would cause the country to forget her quickly. But she was plain and desired only due to her partnership with Vick Hawthorne. She would do poorly on the market, and he would be forced to rely on his aging pool of victors for income. 

Vick Hawthorne on the other hand was popular - incredibly so - and that was part of the problem. Reports from the Districts showed that he was viewed favorably, to the point that his death could cause riots. His victory could cause them just as well. His rebellion with the berries, along with his refusal to kill other tributes, could be problematic. He needed to crush the small, insurgent ideals of the population completely without turning Vick into a martyr. 

If Snow let him die, then Vick Hawthorne would turn into one immediately. If he let him live, he could be a symbol. 

A symbol that perhaps he could use. 

Snow reaches across his desk and picks up the phone. It rings only once. 

“Kill the girl.”

***********************

“We’ve finished.” Katniss says into the phone. She slinks to the floor, having decided after years of awkwardly standing there against the wall, pulling the phone cord taught so she could sit at the kitchen table and sitting in hard chairs that she was most comfortable just sitting on the damn floor. She kept a pillow in the kitchen, propped against the wall, for her long conversations with Finnick.

“Really? An no push back from the Capitol?” He asks and she can picture the way his eyebrows were probably close to his hairline. He hadn’t quite perfected the her single eyebrow raise, but he was trying and the attempt was amusing. 

“Not yet, but technically the house is still Vick’s, so I don’t think we’ll have too many problems. During the Victory Tour, we are going to pretend that he still lives there full time, to keep up appearances.” 

After the Games, the Capitol had insisted that the Hawthornes move out of the Everdeen household - and by insisted she meant that they came to her house, took all the Hawthorne’s possessions and put them into the new house across the way before Vick had even stepped off the train. It had been pretty clear what was expected of the newest Victor and Vick had played it up, joking about how he would finally have his own room. 

The Hawthornes had stayed there for almost a month before everyone decided it would be best if they moved back in. The houses both felt empty after 10 years with seven people living under one roof. Besides, Vick was spending most of his time with Katniss anyways - coming over in the middle of the night and staying well past dawn. Keeping both families under one roof made everyone feel better, especially Vick. The bustle was comforting to him and after everything he had gone through, no one was going to deny him a bit of peace. 

Katniss heard the rustling of fabric in the other room and she knew that Vick was awake again. He was horrible at hunting, but he had picked up his older brother’s knack for walking silently. There were many nights that he would wake up and sit on the front porch and the only reason that Katniss would know he was up was the creaking of the door. Tonight it seemed he wanted some company. It was a new habit of his to sit in the other room and listen in on Katniss and Finnick’s conversations. It should have felt invasive, but Katniss knew he was listening purely sake of hearing another person’s voice, not because he really cared about what they were discussing. 

“How’s Vick doing?” Finnick asks. 

Katniss sighs. “Not good.” She pauses and hears him still shifting restlessly in the other room. “Finnick, I need to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

“Alright Katniss. Tell Vick I’m thinking about him.” 

“I will.” She says before hanging up. Her knees are a bit stiff from sitting cross-legged on the floor, but her back thanked her not curling up in the chairs across the way. 

The living room was dark, but she can see a bundle of blankets piled on the couch with the outline of a tall boy buried underneath it. It was a warm night - early August was always unbearable, even at night - but he seemed to enjoy the feeling of being cocooned. Katniss understood. When she was lost, she found small nooks to hide in: closets, basements, the crawl space under the stairs. There was something welcoming and safe about the tight spaces. 

She pulls the edge of the blanket away and in the glow of the moonlight she can see sweat glistening on his skin. 

“Vick?” She asks softly. “I’m going outside. It’s a full moon tonight. Do you want to join me?” 

He doesn’t respond but he follows obediently, leaving the blanket on the couch. When they get outside, Katniss can see that his shirt is soaked through and she knows he’ll be chilled soon, even with the warm weather. She quickly runs back inside to grab the blanket and drapes it around his shoulders. 

When she finally sits, Vick reaches for her hand but doesn’t say anything. She will wait for him to talk to her - if he wants to talk he will, if he wants to sit there quietly then that’s fine too. Some nights it’s too hard to talk about the dreams, so she’ll wait to see what kind of night it was. In the meantime she would listen to the songs of the crickets and cicadas and she would just be there with him.

Perhaps in the morning they could walk to the forest. She could show him her and Gale’s spot and they could gather some herbs for Prim and her mother. He hated knots - his hands couldn’t seem to work the rope, but they were skilled with a mortar and pestle. It would be a good way to pass the time as they waited for the next nightmare to come.

***********************

Katniss watches Vick across the room. He’s hovering over her family’s much amended book of herbs. Over the years it has grown - every page filled with new drawings, recipes and discoveries about the plants in the area. It now includes some of the more exotic plants that her mother imports from the Capitol and ones that Vick came across in the arena. His work in the book and with Prim in the weeks after the Hawthornes moved back in had really helped him. It had been Prim’s idea and Katniss was grateful. Light had returned to his eyes and while sleeping was still a challenge and likely always would be, he was starting to talk to her and Prim and heal.

Thus far, most of what they have talked about is Abigail. He feels guilty that he survived and she hadn’t. It was a common feeling among the Victors, Katniss felt it - still feels it - when she thinks about Rue. Sweet Rue with the Mockingjay call and brown eyes that shone in the sun. She had failed the girl, letting her enact a plan that took her out of Katniss’ sight. It had been too dangerous and Katniss shouldn’t have let Rue talk her into it. 

There was something else there too, a deeper self-loathing that went well past Abigail. Vick hadn’t said anything specifically but sometimes he slipped. Once, he mentioned all the blood on his hands. Katniss didn’t understand at first since he hadn’t killed anyone but the look in his eyes was one she saw reflected in hers and Finnick’s. He blamed himself for the deaths of the other tributes, the ones that he helped Abigail kill. 

No matter what Prim or her had said, that feeling would only go away when he let it. It had taken Katniss years - years and Finnick - to finally begin to let that go. She still wasn’t ready to pick up a bow and hunt, but the visions had lessened. She had stopped seeing the faces of everyone she had killed in the arena - six other tributes - in the people on the streets and out of the corner of her eye, bloodied with an arrow shaft protruding from their chests. 

Vick didn’t have that particular problem, just the knowledge that he had weaponized the arena and given it to a woman who would kill. The fact that they had gotten him to work with plants again had been a huge step in his healing process, but Vick still only uses plants that could heal. Anything that had the slightest chance of being weaponized he didn’t touch. Some of the flowers and roots they worked with were actually poisons that forced people to sleep or sweat out infections and those he refused to brew or infuse. 

Every day brings the same struggles but new hopes, and Katniss can tell that he is trying. Vick is stubborn, tenacious and his refusal to be held down is so quintessentially him that it makes Katniss smile. She just hopes that all the progress he’s made won’t be destroyed on the tour.

It is two weeks away and Vick is getting tenser the closer it gets. He is hiding it well from Prim, since she is only here during the days, but he can’t avoid Katniss at night. Most night, he doesn’t want to, seeking her out for comfort. 

The phone rings, startling both her and Vick out of their thoughts. It was still early in the day, so it probably wasn’t Finnick, and with the upcoming tour all of Katniss’ appointments had been postponed. Vick looks at her frowning and she can only shrug as she lifts the receiver. She truly has no idea who it is. 

“Hello?” 

“Katniss my dear, how are you?” Says a cheerful voice.

“Effie.” Katniss says, because who else would be this excited this early in the morning. Vick makes a face at Katniss that gets her to smile. 

“Have you seen Vick? I just called him, but no one picked up.”

“Vick’s here with me.”

“Really? Oh perfect. Can you put him on the phone? We need to start discussing the Tour’s schedule. It _is_ only 14 days away and I want to make sure that Vick has everything prepared.”

“He’s been working on his talent, I promise Effie.”

The other woman sighs and Katniss can practically see the slight pinched expression on what is most likely her over dolled up face. When the two had met in the Capitol last month Effie’s hair had been bright pink with matching makeup and feathered eyelashes. There was no telling color wig she was wearing now, but Katniss was sure it was equally blinding. 

“Yes, well. I was hoping that he would tell me exactly what that was since you and Haymitch have been very stingy on the details. I can only give so many mysterious answers before people start getting angry.”

By people, Effie meant Snow and his media team. As usual, Caesar Flickerman would be hosting the Tour interviews in the Capitol and all the media leading up to that. He and Vick would have a remote one to kick off the Tour in two weeks. Vick was expected to let the public know how he had been filling his new free time and no one wanted to hear how he had stared at the wall for hours on end or stayed up all night to avoid his dreams. The people from the Capitol wanted to see him do something they could profit from or take part in. Finnick had gotten away with writing poetry - all of which was terrible but the Capitol had loved it. She had absolutely no marketable talents and had refused to take up one. Luckily Haymitch and Cinna had made one up for her. She had been given a sketchbook filled with beautiful dresses which she had ‘designed’ but really had been done by Cinna. She was still eternally grateful for it. Fashion was so transient that by the next year, no one had thought to even ask her about her so called work. The sketchbook was still upstairs.

Vick’s talent had been harder to come up with - and in fact they hadn’t. All the usuals - music, art, writing - didn’t fit and he had the same attitude about it that Katniss did: he wanted absolutely no part in the sham. Haymitch had also come up with a blank, saying that he had already filled his quota with Katniss, so she had to come up with the ideas this time. 

“If Caesar is really that annoyed, tell him to call me. Otherwise everyone else can just wait. They have enjoyed his surprises so far and they will like this one too.” 

“But Katniss--” Effie starts, but Katniss cuts her off.

“No buts Effie. Now if you will excuse me. We are just sitting down to breakfast. Goodbye.”

“Katniss wait--”

Katniss hangs up the phone and looks over at her with amusement. “Breakfast? Really Katniss?”

She shrugs. “Effie is too polite to interrupt a meal. That just gives us an hour or two before she calls back.”

“And then lie to her again.”

“It’s only a lie if I don’t think of something.” 

“What is Katniss thinking about? And if you say Finnick, I will not be surprised.” Prim says, sweeping into the room. Her arms are full of fresh herbs - a delivery from the Capitol that had just arrived. 

Katniss rolls her eyes at her younger sister but Vick smiles. “My talent for the Tour. Apparently people are getting antsy.”

“Funny you should bring that up.” Prim says slyly. “I have an idea that you might like...”

***********************

“Are you an idiot?” Haymitch hisses, grabbing Katniss by the arm and leading her out the door. She digs her feet in, ripping herself free of his surprisingly iron grip. The two glare at each other, each enraged by the other’s apparent idiocy.

Katniss was having a knee jerk reaction to him - her temper was only rivaled by his - he understood this, but her anger only fueled his more. She hadn’t been this stupid since the incident with the dead Hawthorne. She hadn’t listened to him then and her boyfriend had died. Apparently she hadn’t been listening for the last ten years either and this time, it could cost them everything. 

“What is your problem Haymitch?”

His problem is that her sister and Vick’s damn bleeding hearts were going to attract Snow’s attention at the worst possible time. She didn’t know - couldn’t know- what was happening. Hell, even he had only heard whispers. He had started to put together pieces of news and what he saw wasn’t good. 

He glances back at the house and began walking away, Katniss - hot headed as ever followed.  
When she tries to physically stop him, he brushes her off until they reach town. He points at the broken down whipping post and stocks. They hadn’t been used in years but had been left as a reminder to the people. Dark stains still clung stubbornly to the wood and they were most likely her little lover’s, even after all these years.

Katniss’ eyes instinctively dart away from the scene, but Haymitch forces her to face it anyways. 

“This is my problem. This is where you are going to end up - you, the boy and everyone you love - if you go through with your plan.” 

“It’s just a book.” She growls, pulling out of his hold. 

“No, it’s an idea and ideas are powerful. You, more than anyone should know what Snow does to people that think for themselves. Or have you forgotten now that you have a replacement?” 

He should have expected the slap that came his way. The crack of her palm against his face resounded through the square and anyone that might have been looking their way before certainly wasn’t now. 

Haymitch wiped the drop of blood that oozed out of his split lip. If that had been her fist instead of her palm, he was pretty sure it would have broken his jaw. She still had a mean right hook on her and the desire to use it.

“Look,” He says, “You can probably get the public on board with your plan. They are in love with Vick but Snow isn’t. You’ve been too wrapped up in him to realize how people are reacting. He made a mockery of the Games - surviving without killing anyone, trying to commit suicide to save a dying tribute and surviving. He beat the system and that makes the Capitol look like fools. Push that any farther and Snow isn’t going to go easy on you. He is going to come down hard and your family is going to be the first casualty.” 

Katniss had come into his house earlier, talking about Effie and their plan for Vick’s talent. They had decided to tell the truth about what Vick had been doing for the last six months: working on medicines. This wouldn’t have gotten them too much attention, most of the Capitol would have just been bored by the news since they wouldn’t directly benefit from it, but Prim wanted to twist it so that it would help everyone in the districts. They wanted to play on the Capitol’s love for Vick and his brain and his golden heart and distribute the information across all of Panem. That would get media attention and the Capitol would eat that up right now. 

“We just wanted to help people.”

“No, you wanted to defy Snow. It’s as tempting as it is stupid. Snow wants to keep people down and anything that will raise their hopes is an act against him. You are openly moving against Snow without backup and without a plan.”

It was defiant, just like Vick’s final moments in the Arena had been. After the screens had gone black tongues had started wagging. Whispers about how popular he was, how innovative he was, how they had never seen anything like it. Victors he had talked to sounded hopeful, daring, inspired. Even he had felt something and that was dangerous. 

“Who did you tell? Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to go blabbering about this all over the district - or worse, you’re boyfriend.”

“Just Effie.” 

“Great.” He grounds out. It was probably all over the Capitol by now. “No going back then.” 

Vick had unknowingly made the first move against Snow in the Arena. Now Katniss had helped him make the second. If they were going to survive Snow’s retaliation, then Haymitch was going to have to plan their third attack. That meant he was going to need allies, and he knew just where to start.

***********************

Haymitch had been right. Katniss had been stupid and now Snow was here.

He was sitting in their small study. Over the years it had been converted more into overflow for items from their makeshift apothecary. Two of the walls had been replaced with floor to ceiling shelves filled with jars and backstock of key medicinal herbs. Katniss could tell that her mother had quickly tried to clean the desk off as best she could but there was still streaks of something across the black leather. 

Snow didn’t seem to care. His focus was solely on the boy directly across from him. Anger and fear rose up inside of her at the petrified expression on Vick’s face. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, causing the teen to jump. He was shaking, and when his hand reached up to hers, Katniss could feel the sweat on his palm. 

“Miss Everdeen. So nice of you to join us. Mr. Hawthorne and I were just talking about his work with your mother in the apothecary. I can see why he did so well in last year’s arena.”

“He’s very bright.” She squeezes Vick’s shoulder and he looks up at her. “An order just came in from town. You’re needed in the kitchen.” She glances back at Snow. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. You and I should talk in private anyways my dear.”

Vick is up and out the door a heartbeat later, leaving Katniss and Snow locked in a staring contest. 

“Still very protective of the boy I see. If you hold on to them too tightly, you might just lose them - a lesson I was sure you had learned.” 

She sits at the edge of the chair, schooling her features into an impassive look. It was always hard with Snow. Between the rage and the fear her body always threatened to shake like a leaf. 

“President Snow, we’ve always talked so candidly with each other. It would be a pity to stop now.”

“Yes, you’re right.” He smiles at her. It coils around her heart as he leans forward. The ever present smell of blood on his breath and roses is suffocating and she finds it hard to breathe. “I have a problem Miss Everdeen. A problem that started with those poison berries in the Arena. Two tributes, trying to save each other through mutual suicide. It’s a lovely story - so romantic, so brave, so...defiant.”

He pauses, the smiling falling from his face. With precise, practiced moves Snow temples his fingers and points them at her. “You should be grateful that I allowed the Hawthorne boy to live. It could have just as easily been the girl from Seven.” He leans back, reaching for his cup of tea. Her mother had brought out their only set of good china for their guest. It is white with small Primrose flowers painted along the edge. The sight of his blood red lips against the yellow flowers sends a wave of fear shooting through her core. 

“Why did you save Vick?” She asks, thankful that her voice doesn’t shake.

“Because I believe that he can still be useful. You see, everyone in the country loves him. He is smart, charming, and compassionate. It is quite a novelty really, a sideshow you might say, for the Capitol. However in the Districts his altruistic nature is seeing in a different light, a more malicious light. If a sweet child from District 12 can defy the Capitol and live, what is to prevent them? What is to prevent, say, an uprising? In a heartbeat there will be a revolution and the whole system will collapse.”

“It must be a fragile system if it can be brought down by a few berries.”

“Yes it is, but not in the way you imagine. Do not think I haven’t seen the look in your eye before Ms. Everdeen. I have seen it many times on many faces. Every attempt to undermine me has come to a bloody end. This time will be no different, only the scale will change. I will burn this city to the ground and bury it under ashes if I must. Is that candid enough for you my dear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now you and I both want to avoid war.” He looks at her pointedly and she nods. War. Thousands upon thousands of death that she is sure would start here, at home in District 12. “Which means you are going to put a stop to this during the upcoming tour. The boy looks up to you, so guide him. Help him put on his best face - one that is grateful, happy and loyal to the Capitol. He is to be our biggest supporter.”

“He will be.” 

Snow gets up and pulls out a small flower, handing it to her as he walks past. “I do hope so, for the sake of your loved ones.”

Her legs refuse to work, but he doesn’t need to be seen out. She wouldn’t have had the strength to do so anyway. She is a drift in a haze of hysteria, drowning in her senses as they hyperfocus on the small, white bud clenched in her fists. Past and present fuse into one moment - the moment that the Peacekeeper presented her with a bouquet of roses at Gale’s funeral, and every year after. Ten years violently coalesce into one, making her head pound and her heart race. 

Katniss doesn’t realize she’s been moved until the sting of alcohol burns along her hand. Vick’s dark head is hunched over her hand and she finally registers the blood. The rose was gone, it’s scent replaced with the heady, savory smell of rabbit stew, but it had left its mark on her: five deep cuts oozed blood on the palm of her hand, one of which still had a thorn embedded in her the flesh of her thumb. 

Prim shoots nervous glances her way every few seconds, but Katniss can’t find the words to comfort her. 

Haymitch had been right. He had been _right_.


	7. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey everybody! I'm back with another chapter. Sorry it's taken so long, but I made the chapter extra long to make up for it! A lot happens and we are moving forward to the Quell (not this chapter, but soon). I appreciate everyone's comments, favorites, and follows and I hope that this chapter satisfies even though we haven't gotten to the good parts yet. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns everything.

They couldn’t openly talk about the rebellion or anything associated with it on the phone, but Finnick kept his ears open for any talk about uprisings in District Four. There were whispers, rumblings on the docks and defiant looks between fishermen but nothing seemed to change outwardly. There were no changes in Peacekeepers, no tightening of security, nothing and Finnick almost thought that whatever spark Vick had ignited in the other districts had died out here in Four. 

Then came the announcement of the Quarter Quell. 

The early March night saw spring just starting to arrive in District Four. The night was cool, but not the biting cold that had lingered throughout February. Finnick, Annie and Mags had all gathered at Mag’s house for the mandatory viewing. It was the first since the Victory Tour and everyone knew exactly what it was for. 

“What do you think it’s going to be?” Finnick asks Mags. It was exactly four months before the start of the 75th Hunger Games and he was already dreading it. The first Quarter Quell had called for districts to choose their tributes and the second Quell demanded twice the tributes. He really didn’t want to know what this year’s Games would ask of the districts, but he hoped it wasn’t worse than anything his overactive imagination had come up with. 

Mags shrugs. “Bad.” She mumbles and two of her grandkids - Martin and Lee, the only two of reaping age - look at her worried. Finnick loved Mags, but that woman was not known for her sugar coating of anything. She was sweet, but blunt and honest sometimes to the point of annoyance. 

Annie flinches and reaches over for Finnick’s hand, making him look back at the screen. President Snow appears, giving the traditional speech about the Treaty of Treason and Finnick can’t keep the look of pure disgust off his face as he stares at the elderly man. The President’s perfectly cultivated look - almost grandfatherly - makes his stomach turn. There was nothing nice about that man, especially the more Finnick learned about him. Snow was corrupt to the core, and Finnick found it fitting that his body was suffering as much as his victims. 

Oh yes, Finnick had learnt about Snow’s colorful history. Between him and Katniss, there was little that went on in the Capitol that they didn’t know about. It had only been a matter of time before they had found out about Snow’s deadly rise to power and the not so unfortunate consequences that it wreaked on the President’s health. 

It was enough to almost make Finnick appreciate the suffocating stench of those genetically engineered roses that Snow always wore. 

The President speaks with a triumphant lilt to his voice, echoing the crowd’s cheers as he outlines the history of the Games. 

“On this, the 75th anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate our third Quarter Quell.” He pulls out a small, yellow envelope and gently pries off the wax seal. Finnick leans forward as Snow speaks, and he could swear the President was smiling. “As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, in this the Quarter Quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district. Victors will present themselves on Reaping Day, regardless of age, state of health or situation.”

The shock was like a tidal wave that swept through the television. The people of the Capitol were clearly distraught, but the distress is palpable in the districts. 

All eyes in the room turn to the three victors on the couch. Annie, is immediately a mess. Her broken cries are buried in Finnick’s chest as quickly as she can make them and he wishes he had the words to tell her that things will be alright but they won’t be. 

“What does that mean?” Martin asks and for a moment, no one wants to answer him. 

“It means that Finnick, Annie or Grandma will be reaped.” Lee whispers and that sets the younger children off. Marie is up on Mags’ lap in an instant, holding tightly onto her Grandmother as if she was going to vanish that very second. 

“So it might not be mom.” Mark, Mags’ youngest son says and his wife Clara reaches for him sympathetically. 

“Annie won’t last two minutes in the arena.” She says, and Mark pulls away, jumping to his feet.

“And mom will? She’s 80 years old!” 

That starts the arguments. All the young adults are yelling, children are crying and Mags just sits there quietly as more and more of the younger grandchildren begin to cuddle close to her. She whispers words of comfort to the children, but nothing seems to staunch the flow of tears as the adults fight. 

It’s a pointless argument. True, there are four victors of District Four, two males and two females giving each of them a 50-50 chance of being reaped, but no one is taking into account victors who will volunteer - and Finnick already knows what Mags’ is going to do. It is written across her face - acceptance, determination and also defeat. No matter what her family says, no matter how much they protest, Mags’ has already decided that she is going to be the female tribute for District Four. 

She smiles at him softly over the heads of three small children and Finnick nods back. As if he didn’t need another reason to love that woman. She was willing to give up her life for someone else, someone who isn’t even her blood relation. That took an strength that defied everything the Capitol was. 

Most of the victors wouldn’t be that lucky. Some wouldn’t be able to hope for that. 

All the blood drained from his face. There were only two districts that had either one female or one male tribute. One was District 10 and the other was District 12. 

Mags frowns and tilts her head at him questioningly. 

“Katniss.” He says, knowing his voice is shaking. “She’s going to be the female tribute for District 12. There’s no one to take her place.”

“Oh Finnick.” Mags says, and if he could, he would fall into her arms just like the rest of the children. 

He had promised Katniss that Snow wouldn’t be able to touch him, but that wasn’t true. If she was going in the Arena, then he was too.

*****************

The phone ran five times, longer than it had in years and Finnick feels his insides twist. By the time he had calmed Annie down, helped Mags’ put the younger children to bed and was able to sneak away from the still arguing adults, it had been almost two hours after Snow’s announcement. He wished he had left earlier, but when Marie had realized that Finnick was probably going into the Arena along with Mags it had been impossible. She had clung to him as tightly as Annie and the two fed off each other’s tears.

“Hello?” Says a tired voice. 

“Hey Prim.” Finnick says. He’s sure that their household has been just as emotional as Mags’. “How’s Katniss?” 

“Not good. She ran off during Snow’s speech and--” Prim cuts off and Finnick can hear a loud bang followed quickly by voices. Even through the phone, the argument is easily heard.

“I don’t care.” Katniss screams. 

“Well, you don’t have a say in this.” Retorts Vick. 

“I---I don’t---I am your mentor if nothing else and what I saw goes!” She sputters angrily. 

“We are both victors now Katniss.” Vick spits out. “That means we are on equal footing.” 

“Equal? No. You have no idea what you are getting into.” 

“Really? Because I remember going into the Games pretty recently. I think I know what to expect.”

“Those were children. This is different. Every single person there is a killer and you - you are just lucky to be alive. You aren’t cut out for this and I am not going to watch you die because of your own stupidity.” 

“And I’m not going to watch you die period. I am going to protect you. Gale would have--” 

There is a crash and Finnick hears Prim squeak unconsciously over the line and then there’s silence. 

Prim muffles a “It’s Finnick” and scratching of fabric tells him that she’s handing the phone to someone else. 

“Vick’s going to volunteer.” Is the first thing Katniss says, her voice hoarse from shouting and, he’s sure, tears. Finnick sighs. Of course Vick Hawthorne is going to volunteer. Katniss is like a sister to him - closer probably than even Posy. 

“Katniss, I’m going to volunteer too.” He whispers.

Her response is a dial tone.

Finnick sighs as he wipes his hand over his face. He should have seen that coming, but what did Katniss expect? Jackson, the only other male tribute for District Four, had a family - a wife and three kids - to look after and the most important people in Finnick’s life - Mags and Katniss - were going to be in the Arena. Of course he was volunteering. 

And nothing anyone could say was going to change his mind.

Hopefully Katniss will understand that - or at least hate him less for what he was going to do. He was breaking the one promise he had made to himself and to her: he was becoming her next Gale. 

But Snow had declared war on the victors and Finnick wasn’t going to sit by and take it.

*****************

The next morning Finnick saw the first outward signs of rebellion in District Four. One of the shipping dry docks was white washed to make the giant, black letters stand out even more. They were so large that the message could easily be read even by the boats out at sea: “We stand with our victors.”

Over the next week, three more buildings were marked similarly, each with different sayings: “The odds are never in our favor”, “One Panem, no future”, and simply a hand over flowing with berries. 

Two days later a host of new Peacekeepers had arrived at District Four. Seven people were executed publicly and the large paintings stopped - but smaller tags started. It was the same thing over and over again, on street corners, sidewalks, boats, trains, and cars: It is a white circle with a branch of purple berries.

*****************

Finnick stands in the lobby of the Tribute Center. After six years of taking appointments, he had come to expect a bit of cloak and dagger, but he has absolutely no idea who his current buyer is. Usually he has a vague idea, a hint at who he was meeting with, but this had new patron had come out of the blue. His escort had called him early this morning telling him that his appointment with Minerva Glace had been canceled and he was to be dressed casually and downstairs by 9 am.

So now he was waiting, dressed in what anyone from the Districts would consider formal wear, but for the sake of his appointments was relaxed simply because he wasn’t wearing a tie. 

“Finnick!” Came a sing-song voice and he turns to see Effie Trinket walking towards him with quick short steps, her stride inhibited by the neon green pencil skirt she wore. As usual, he doesn’t know which part of her was brighter, her clothing or her hair - a pink atrocity with complete with a flower crown of lilies. They match the large bouquet she carries, making the floral smell almost overwhelming and Finnick has to force himself not to cringe as she leans forward and kisses each of his cheeks. 

“Effie” He says, plastering the largest smile he could on his face. He actually liked the woman, even though she was completely naive about what actually happened in the Capitol. “What are you doing here?”

“I am here to spend time with you silly!” She says, weaving her free arm through his. Her other cradles the flowers and a full bag of what appear to clothes.

He pulls back and stares at her. “You are my appointment? Is that even allowed?” Usually escorts had nothing to do with victors or tributes from other districts. It was actually frowned upon, since Snow didn’t want the districts to become closer, but it still happened - Effie was a good example of that. This however was on a completely different scale than chatting him up during the Games. 

Effie laughs, glancing around the room quickly before she answers. Her voice is cautious, as if she’s trying to pick out the right words. “Well, no, but I am setting this up for a friend, so technically she is your appointment and I am just making sure you get there. She just absolutely loves you and I wanted to surprise her.” 

Finnick tenses immediately, sensing something wrong, but he still smiles brightly at her and offers her his arm. “In that case, I am all yours, at least until we get to where we are going.”

Effie perks up immediately and places her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Fabulous! And since it is such a good day, I thought we could walk there, it is fairly close after all.” He nods, and allows himself to be escorted outside and to the left. 

It is a nice day, somewhat cool, but spring is trying hard to come to Capitol. Some of the first flowers had finally bloomed and the trees were just starting to green. Luckily, due to the naturally arid environment of the Capitol, they would never be subjected to the humid air that clung to most of District Four throughout the summer. He really should be enjoying it, but the bad feeling from earlier puts a damper on the beautiful weather. 

Effie comments on everything, hardly letting him get in a word edgewise until they were about four blocks from the Tribute Center. It was Effie’s usual idle chatter, but the way she keeps glancing back the way they came tells Finnick that her topic of choice is anything but thoughtless. For reasons he doesn’t understand, Effie is worried that they are being followed or listened in on or both, and that puts him on edge. 

As soon as the towering building is out of sight Effie flags down a taxi and practically pushes him into the backseat. 

“Effie, where are we going.” 

“No questions.” She snaps at him and shoves the garish purple tote bag at him. “And change into these.” The bag has a complete change of clothing and a _very_ expensive bottle of liquor. 

Finnick holds up the alcohol and asks with an amused smile, “Really, I can’t ask _any_ questions?”

She snatches the bottle from him with a glare. “No - and hurry up!”

The clothes he pulls from the bag are nothing that he would ever find in his closet back at the Tribute Center. Gone are the raw silks and velvets. For the first time ever, Finnick finds himself in comfortable clothing outside of his home district. The Capitol street fashion is still more upscale than anything he would have worn at home, but the fitted cowl neck hoodie and skinny teal pants are a distinct step down from his usual suit and tie. For once, he could probably blend into a crowd in the Capitol. 

While he changes, Effie gives their destination to the driver - The Galen Memorial Hospital - and they are off. She swivels to check out the back window for whoever might be following them, but still there is no one. Finnick had never known Effie to be quiet so paranoid, and he wonders if it is somehow a result of the escalating issues in the Districts. He hadn’t heard anything outright but the conspicuous outages of paper, ribbon and meat in the Capitol tell him that the situations in Districts Seven, Eight and Ten are worse than anyone is saying over the the tightly controlled news. 

Finally, after starting out the back window for a few minutes, Effie settles into her chair with a small sigh. “I’m sure you want an explanation as to why I had you strip in a cab.”

“That would be nice.” Finnick says, smiling at her wanly. “Effie, what is going on?”

“That is a very good question, but answers will have to wait. Just keep your head down and don’t say anything once we get there.”

“Your friend must be very special for you to go out of your way like this.” 

Effie smiles sadly, “Oh she is, and this is the least I can do. If I could, I would let her spend all her time with you.” 

They pull up to the hospital and Effie tips the driver generously and slyly asks him not to mention anything about them or their destination to anyone. Finnick frowns as he watches her, wondering exactly who is going to see and why no one needs to know that he is the one visiting this so-called friend. 

“Hood up.” Effie says and passes him the bouquet of flowers. Between the extra fabric and mass of petals and leaves it’s hard for to make out his features, but it also makes it hard to navigate through the bustle of people so Finnick reaches out and loops his arm through hers. Effie looks startled at first, but smiles at him when he sheepishly holds the flowers closer to his face. 

They take the elevator to the third floor, and Finnick is glad that the one in the Tribute Center doesn’t have any of the horrible music that is softly playing in the background of the small compartment. It’s probably supposed to be soothing, but it is just bad - he can swear the lead violin is off key, or was it the cello? 

When they exit, the first thing he notes is the quiet. There had been so many people downstairs, everyone weaving through the crowd with intent and a good amount of speed, but here there was no one. He peeks around the flowers and sees a handful of nurses and two Peacekeepers. 

“Rufus! Felix! How are you this morning?” Effie asks.

“Miss Trinket...And friend.” The one on the left - Rufus - says slowly, nodding at her. “You will have to check in - both of you.” He holds out a small electronic pad. 

“Of course.” Effie says, releasing Finnick. “Would you mind holding on to this?” She hands Rufus the purple bag with the bottle of liquor strategically placed right on top, and takes the pad. 

He whistles as he holds up the clear bottle. “Miss Trinket, you have some good taste in booze.” 

Effie smiles at him while typing. “It was a gift from a friend, but I hate the stuff - almost as much as I hate paperwork. It just is so confusing!.” She sighs dramatically and presses herself closer to Rufus holding up the pad. “Exactly where am I supposed to sign in?”

“I can do it for you Miss Trinket--”

“Effie.” She says, smiling brighter at him. “And you can keep the bottle, if you fill in the paperwork for him too.” 

Rufus and Felix share a look. Rufus smiles and nods. “Sure thing Miss--Effie. We’ll, uh, make sure everything is done for your friend as well.”

“Fabulous! Thank you so much Rufus. You really are such a doll.” 

Finnick smiles from behind the flowers. Effie Trinket, secret con artist - who knew? He keeps his head down as she pushes him along. 

“That was easier than I thought.” Effie giggled, looping her arm back through Finnick’s. 

“I am impressed.” He says, “Escorts must make more money than I thought to just give away a bottle of Hayden’s Whiskey, Black Label.” 

“Oh I didn’t pay for it. You did.”

Finnick blinks. “I--what?” 

“Oh look- here we are!” Effie stops in front of a large wood door. She releases Finnick and he sees her whole demeanor change. The smiling, sly woman crumbles away and Finnick feels that bad feeling return full force. 

“Effie, just who are we here to see?”

She sighs and opens the door, taking the flowers from Finnick’s hand as she pushes him forward. 

The room is bright and airy, with three large windows and pale yellow walls. It smells of roses - it’s like a stench that permeates through the air and wraps around his throat. It’s hard to swallow and his stomach clenches and knots. The small bouquet of perfect white roses sits on the table next to bed, between a series of softly beeping machines and a petite, still figure. It takes Finnick’s mind a minute to make out the familiar features under all the bandages and bruising, but he knows that face so well - from the slant of her nose to the curve of her lips. 

The world falls away. He barely notices his feet moving as he walks closer or Effie closing the door behind them. His eyes are glued to the woman in the bed. Katniss’ skin is dark against the white knit blanket that covers her from the chest down yet so much paler than he remembered it. One arm is draped over her stomach, splinted and encased in plaster, the other is buried under the covers - but it is her face that he can’t seem to stop looking at. Her perfect, beautiful face is mottled with bruises and slashes of red where her skin split. One eye is swollen closed and the other is covered with bandages that wrap around her head. 

Finnick’s hands shake as he reaches out for her, his fingers tracing the planes of her face, trailing down her neck, her shoulder and her arm before darting under the blanket to find her other hand, red and scabbed across the knuckles. He kisses it, thankful for the feel of the steady pulse that beats under her warm skin. He looks across at Effie who is arranging the lilies in a small vase, next to the roses. 

Just looking at the flowers and knowing who had been here before him, who had known before him, who had likely orchestrated whatever “accident” had befallen Katniss sends a blinding rage through him. “Get rid of those.” He snaps, startling Effie. 

“What?” She asks, blinking at him in confusion.

“Those roses, get them out of here. Put them in the trash where they belong.” 

“But--”

“Just do it!” He all but roars. Effie jumps, her eyes fearful and she scurries from the room with the flowers in her hands. Finnick deflates, all his fight falling away in the face of that scared expression. Effie didn’t deserve his anger - in fact she deserved his undying gratitude. She had gone out of her way, and likely against President Snow, to bring him here. If she hadn’t, Katniss would have been here, hurt and alone, and he would have never known. He would have been in the dark until he returned home and tried to call her. Not for the first time, Finnick cursed the lack of phones in the Tribute Center. 

The door opens and closes and he sees Effie standing as close to the wall as she could get. He sighs.

“I’m sorry Effie, I’m just--” He was terrified, angry, confused. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

She nods, “Yes, well, my lilies are much better to look at anyways, so no harm done.” 

Her flowers did look better, but anything was better than roses - especially when they clearly came from Snow. “They are perfect Effie.” And they are. For the first time today Finnick is glad for the potent smelling flowers. They quickly overpower the dissipating smell of roses, making it seem like their presence had just been a bad dream.

If the rest of the scene could be replaced so easily. 

Finnick runs a hand over Katniss’ long, brown hair - braided to the side as usual and resting on her shoulder. “Effie, what happened?”

The escort sighs, pulling the chairs by the wall over. She places one next to the bed for Finnick and the other across from him, keeping Katniss between the two of them. He’s thankful for the seat, feeling the weight of his emotions dragging him deeper into the hard chair. 

“I do not know all the details, but two days ago I got a phone call summoning me to the hospital in the middle of the night. I, of course, had no idea what was going on but --“She takes a deep breath and stares at him sadly. “All they told me is that there had been an accident and her injuries were too severe to be safely treated in District 12. She was rushed here via hovercraft and has been unconscious since she arrived.” 

“Is she--” _Is she going to die?_ He wants to demand, but Finnick can’t bring himself ask the question. He can barely complete the thought let alone voice it. He clutches Katniss’ hand to his chest. It is an irrational thought, but Finnick can’t help but feel like if he keeps holding on to her, she won’t be able to slip away from him. 

“She has been through multiple surgeries and they are very hopeful. Now what she needs is rest and to let her body finish healing. Today is the first day they have allowed visitors, and I thought you would like to be here.” 

“Thank you Effie.” He whispers. And he is thankful. So very damn thankful. 

“If it had been you, I know Katniss would have done everything in her power to be here.” 

That was the truth. If it had been him lying there instead of her, Katniss would have fought off a whole army of Peacekeepers just to get to him. Bribing her way in would have been the very last thought on her mind. The thought of her punching Rufus in the face makes Finnick smile. His Katniss - his violent, beautiful, protective Katniss - wouldn’t have left his side until he woke up.

“How long can we stay?”

“As long as you want. I have booked you for the next four days, so we do not have to go anywhere if you don’t want to. After that, well, you will have to figure out something on your own, I’m afraid. But Finnick, those Peacekeepers will not be able to keep your presence hidden forever. If you try to spend all your time here, someone is going to notice, and they are doing their best to keep this out of the news.” 

Four days, he didn’t have to go anywhere for four more days. It was such a blessing. Finnick whispers another “Thank you Effie”, but it seems to insufficient.

*****************

When Finnick said he wasn’t going anywhere, he meant it. Effie came and went. She brought back food, clothing and any news she picked up while out in the city - but he didn’t leave.

Liviana, or Livi as she preferred to be called came in at least three times a day to check on Katniss. She was the head nurse in charge of this wing - which Finnick had learnt was exclusively for the extremely wealthy or those that wanted to keep their hospitalization out of the public eye. Rufus and Felix were apparently full time employees of the hospital, not, as Finnick had believed, here because of Katniss. 

Livi was still fairly young and had all but fainted the first time she had walked in and saw Finnick sitting there. She had turned bright red and excused herself for almost an hour before she had returned. The woman still couldn’t look him in the eye without flushing. Finnick had made it a game to see how many times he could get her to blush in one sitting. His current record was five. 

Finnick liked Livi. She was a talker, chatting away at him when she came in to change out Katniss’ medication, check her vitals and wash her - something Finnick had taken over immediately - but still worked efficiently so she didn’t linger for long. She was also very accommodating, immediately bringing in a cot for Finnick and sharing food that she had brought from home. 

He would catch naps now and again, and on the third day, Effie had demanded that he sleep properly and shower. Finnick hadn’t realized how tired he was until his head hit the pillow. His dreams were filled with Katniss - her smile, her laugh, her voice. They bleed into his waking, and it takes him a moment to realize what was happening. 

Laughter. There is laughter in the room and he looks over to see Livi and Effie giggling softly. They are talking to each other as they hover over Katniss’ bed. 

“You are just lucky I finally convinced him to shower. The stench would have put you back under immediately.” Effie says, scrunching her nose up as if she could still smell him. A raspy, dry chuckle joined the high pitched giggles and Finnick was out of bed in a flash. The single, thin blanket that had been draped over him tangles in his legs, making him stumble but he catches himself on the side of Katniss’ bed and he stares into two wide, grey eyes. 

“Katniss.” He breathes out and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry or both. She was awake and she was staring right at him. The corners of her mouth curl slightly and he can see the tired delight in her eyes.

“Hi.” She says, her voice cracking from disuse. 

“Hi.” He says, and this time laughter comes rushing out of him. His hand finds hers and his lips follow shortly, pressing kisses into her hair, her forehead and anywhere he can see that isn’t a rainbow of color. 

“You’re awake. You’re awake and alive.” He says into her skin, breathing in the medicinal smell that clings to her. 

“And I’m fine.”

Finnick pulls back and stares at her. “Fine? _Fine_? A collapsed lung, concussion, broken nose, clavicle and hand - in three places I might add - five broken ribs and a lacerated spleen does _not_ mean you are _fine_!”

“Alright.” Katniss says slowly, “I am _going_ to be fine.” 

He nods, “Yes you are.” He takes a shaky breath in. “I was so scared you wouldn’t have been though. When Effie brought me here and you were laying on that bed, I thought I was going to lose you. I was so scared I couldn’t sleep. I was worried that if I took my eyes off of you for a second that you were going to slip away from me.”

She squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry Finnick.” He notices Effie ushering Livi out the door and he’s grateful for the privacy. 

“It’s not your fault. Whatever ‘accident’ Snow pulled, it’s not your fault.” He wanted this to be perfectly clear. She had blamed herself for Gale’s death for so long, he didn’t want her to pile on more guilt. 

“No, it is.” She whispers, looking away from him. “Things happened so _fast_ and escalated so quickly that ---”

He cuts her off. “What happened Katniss?”

“Peacekeepers. Snow sent a new head Peacekeeper to District 12 right after the announcement. They set up new stocks and whipping posts in the square and they forced my mother to shut down her apothecary. Finnick, they burned all her supplies, even her book of plants. Vick, Prim and my mother have been forbidden from administering _any_ aid to the injured, and they have been piling up.” 

“I can’t believe Prim and Vick haven’t been doing anything to help.” 

Katniss shakes her head, wincing slightly at the movement. “Oh they have been. Sneaking out at night to help the worst cases and gathering supplies from over the fence. The damn thing has been electrified 24 hours a day and Vick broke his ankle trying to get back over it. District 12 is being crushed under the heel of the Peacekeepers and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

Her hand tightens around his. He runs his thumb over her healing knuckles starting to grasp what probably had happened. “Katniss...” He whispers, trying to offer comfort. 

“I was so angry, and when they turned their attention to the Hob, I snapped. I remember running towards the smoke, pulling people from the fire and then I saw a Peacekeeper beating Greasy Sae. I hit him and I kept hitting him until...I guess backup arrived. Everything after that is a blur.” 

She raises her broken hand. “They really did a number on me.” 

“You punched a Peacekeeper.” Finnick says in awe. He doesn’t know if he should be proud of her bravery, horrified by her lack of foresight, or just grateful that she had survived the encounter at all. A part of him knows he would probably have done the same thing in her situation.

He hadn’t realized things in District 12 had gotten so bad. Based on how things had gone in District Four, he wasn’t surprised that Snow had increased the Peacekeeper presence, but it was more than that. He wasn’t just attacking Katniss and Vick’s family, he was waging war on the whole district as punishment. 

“Things are just going to get worse.” She says, her voice cracking as tears start to spill from her eyes. 

“Hush.” Finnick wipes away the tears from her eyes. “You don’t know that.” 

She glares at him and he flinches. Sweet nothings and white lies were never something they shared, and he knew he shouldn’t start now.

“Alright, fine.” He relents. “But worrying about it now won’t help. You need to rest and heal, you look tired.” She had only been up for 10 minutes, but Katniss already looked exhausted. 

She squeezed his hand. “Stay. Please.”

“Always.”

*****************

Effie’s purchased time eventually ran out and Finnick was reluctantly forced to leave the hospital. When he told Katniss he was leaving she got a wild, terrified look in her eye that took him longer than he would have liked to get rid of.

For the next few days Finnick would swing by the Tribute Center to get cleaned up and then go to his appointment. It would keep him away from the hospital all night, but he would rush over there as soon as he returned. The clothing that Effie had brought him, along with some fake glasses, made him inconspicuous enough for him to hail a cab without causing a scene. Thus far the media hadn’t realized that Finnick Odair was walking among them unseen, and he wanted to keep it that way. He traveled light, only securing varying bottles of obscenely expensive alcohol to bribe the two guards that were stationed on Katniss floor. 

“Felix.” Finnick says, handing him the day’s offering. It was a personal favorite of Haymitch’s, a 30 year old scotch that went down smoother than silk - his words. Finnick wasn’t much for alcohol, especially after watching his father waste away under its toxic influence. 

The peacekeeper smiles and takes the bottle. “Effie’s friend.” He replies. Finnick suspects they have an idea who he is, but they don’t look at him too hard and don’t ask questions - it’s better for everyone involved in case someone comes around asking questions.

Down the hall, Livi is exiting Katniss’ room, her face contorted into a frustrated pout. She takes one look at Finnick and sighs dramatically.

“I sincerely hope that you can talk some sense into her.” She leaves before Finnick can say anything, shaking her head as she passes the two guards. 

Confused, he walks into Katniss small corner room and finds her standing up but still holding onto the bed like her life depended on it

“Are you supposed to be up?” He asks, concerned as he rushes towards her. Katniss takes one shaky step before stumbling slightly. Finnick arrives just in time to catch her and she glares - more at her feet than at him.

“If I spend one more second in that bed I will go crazy.” She grumbles as she gets her feet back under her. “Besides, my legs are fine. I can walk around if I want to.” 

He smiles, shaking his head at her. Katniss had that stubborn tilt to her head, slightly raising her chin in defiance of anything and everything the world had to throw at her. 

“Alright. Let’s take a walk. At the other end of the floor is a small balcony with complete with seats, flowers and afternoon sunshine.” 

That erases the frown from her face and Katniss slips her arms around his waist to hug him. As she squeezes, something hard presses into his side, startling both of them. “What’s that?” Katniss says, even as her hand darts into the pocket. There is a crinkling sound as she pulls out a small, clear plastic package with a red silk ribbon on it. Inside are 12 pristine white cubes.

“Sugar cubes?” She asks, looking up at Finnick even as she opens the bag. She pulls one out, spinning it softly in her fingers. “Why do you have sugar cubes?”

“They are a gift from my newest companion. Do you know Helena Croft?” - Katniss shakes her head - “Well she breeds horses, including the ones in the Tribute Parade. She has a passion for her steeds that borders on the obsessive. I’m pretty sure if she could, she would mount them instead of me.” 

“Finnick!” 

He laughs at her blushing outrage. “I’m serious. When a woman refers to you as a ‘purebred with good breeding’ and gives you sugar because her ‘good boy deserves sweet treats’, there is something else going through her mind. Next time I bet she’ll even have a saddle for me to wear.” 

“That still doesn’t explain why you have her ‘treats’ in your pocket.”

Finnick takes Katniss’ hand, lifting it to his mouth as he delicately picks the sweet from her fingers with his teeth. He crunches on it loudly, smiling widely at the perplexed woman. “She was right, I have a soft spot for sweet things.” With the flat of his tongue, he laves the traces of sugar from her skin, kissing each fingertip as he finishes. 

Katniss’ eyes darken. “Odair, are you comparing me to sugar?”

He chuckles. “Is it such a far stretch? You’re both addicting and taste great under my tongue.” 

Even as her lip curl, her cheeks flush. It travels across her skin and down her neck and Finnick takes great pleasure in the vibrant hue. No one else could do this to her.

“Come on. Let’s see if we can’t sneak by Livi.” 

They walk down the hall past the two guards. Felix nods and sends Finnick a conspiratorial wink. “Livi’s in the bathroom.” He says. “You best be moving along if you want to dodge her. Just don’t leave this floor.”

“Thanks Felix.”

The small patio is just around the corner and Finnick can see Katniss light up in the afternoon sunshine. She soaks it up as surely as the plants she’s named after. Even with all the ugly purple and green blotches that cover a good portion of her face, she looks better than she has in days. 

“Thank you Finnick.” She says. Deciding to forgo the other chair, Finnick sits on the ground next to her, leaning his head against her leg. His hand circles her ankle, tracing the smooth skin of her calf idly. He just wants to touch her, to hold her, to breath her in - anything to remind himself that she is healthy and whole. Katniss can’t seem to keep her hands off him either. Her fingers play in his hair, scraping lightly against his scalp. The long night catches up with him and Finnick falls asleep, basking in both the warmth of the sun and her presence.

*****************

The afternoon has cooled when he wakes up, the sun having dipped behind the tall building and casting the patio in shadow. Finnick blinks and looks up to find Katniss staring out across the skyline. Her fingers are cold against his neck and he could tell she had gone off somewhere else.

“I’d ask what you are thinking about, but I’m pretty sure I already know.”

Katniss is startled from her thoughts and looks at him amused.

“Please, enlighten me.”

He stands, stretching. The stone hadn’t been too comfortable and he was still sleep deprived from the night before. He smiles down at her, tracing his thumb over the curve of her cheek. Her eyes are brighter than he remembers seeing them in a couple days. 

“Me, of course.” 

Katniss laughs and gets ups. “I like to think I have a bit more restraint than most of your fan base.” 

Finnick shrugs and falls into step beside her as they walk back towards her room. “I can’t help that I am on most people’s minds. But” - he slides his arm around her waist and leans in close enough to brush his lips against the shell of her ear - “You are the only one I want thinking about me.” 

He’s awarded with a shudder. “So you want me to feed your delusions of grandeur?” 

“Oh Katniss, you already do.” He presses himself closer to her, guiding her backwards into the privacy of her personal suite. “Every time I touch you.” He trails both his hands over her waist, brushing the curve of her breasts and she arches into him. “Every time I kiss you.” He brushes his lips against hers teasingly, forcing her to chase his kisses. When she finally catches him, Katniss makes sure he pays for his play. Her hands hold him firm and her tongue dances with his until they are both breathless. 

“Every time you do that.” He whispers into her skin. “You make me feel like the most powerful person in the world. Who else can make Katniss Everdeen lose control?”

“Arrogant.” She hisses, but he can hear the mix of amusement and desire coloring her words. Her legs hit the bed and she pulls him down on top of her as she topples backwards. Finnick follows, ready and willing to let Katniss have her wicked way with him but the sharp cry of pain pulls him back to reality. 

“Katniss!” He pushes himself off of her, scrambling off the bed. Frantically, he reaches for the nurse call button but her hand darts out to stop him. Her face is pale with pain and there is a sheen of sweat on her brow. His heart constrict as she catches her breath. How could he have forgotten about her ribs? 

“It’s fine Finnick.”

“Let me just call Livi and--”

“NO!” Her words are sharp and he thinks back to earlier - the irritated Livi stomping down the hallway muttering about Katniss. 

“I know you and Livi are butting heads over your treatment but--”

“That’s not it.” Katniss sighs and falls back onto the sheets leaving her legs hanging over the edge. Her breaths are ragged for a moment, but they eventually fall into an easy, steady rhythm once again. Finnick waits patiently for her to continue, curious as a small blush begins to spread over her cheeks. Katniss squeezes her eyes shut, pressing the palms deep into her eye sockets as if to block out the world. 

“She keeps asking me why we aren’t married.” Her voice goes high pitched, emulating the heavy accent of her Capitol nurse. “If Finnick was my man I would have snatched him up. Hurry up and marry him so you can have a whole slew of beautiful babies and can I be their godmother?” 

Finnick picks her feet up and places them on the bed. “Their godmother? Really?”

Katniss glares at him from under her palms. “She’s also invited herself to our wedding as the maid of honor.”

“That’s ambitious.” 

“It’s annoying. And obnoxious. And, and--”

Finnick pulls her hands away from her face. “Katniss, you deal with pushy, intrusive Capitolites all the time. Why are you letting this one get under your skin?” 

She sighs and sits up, leaving space for him on the bed. It’s inviting, but the air is heavy as Katniss refuses to look at him. 

“I know that you want it. I know you want to get married and have kids. You’ve been dreaming about it for years.” Her hands fiddle with her thin fabric of her medical gown. Finnick sits, placing a hand over hers to stop the twitching. 

“Dreams change.” 

Her eyes dart up to his. “Have yours?”

He could lie. He wanted to because she felt guilty about enough things in her life but he couldn’t. Even knowing their situation, even knowing how Katniss felt about marriage, he still wanted it and he wanted it with her. 

“No.” He whispers and she nods like she expected the answer. He squeezes her hand. “And I don’t think they ever will. What about you Katniss, what’s your dream?”

Her eyes glaze over and she turns from him to stare out the window. “I don’t have any anymore. Just nightmares.” 

Finnick’s heart clenches. He thinks about everything that is going on in District 12 - the beatings, the whippings, the severe supply rationing. Snow has taken her world and turned it into hell all because of a few berries. 

Taking her into his arms, he buried his face in her hair and whispered, “Then I’ll dream enough for both of us.”

*****************

He had become so accustomed to his new routine - all night at appointments and all day at the hospital - that he was blindsided by the change. When the elevator doors open, he isn’t greeted by a smiling nurse Livi. Instead she looks at him with a pinched, perplexed expression.

“Finnick, what are you doing here?”

He frowns. “I’m here to see Katniss.”

“She’s not here. She was released earlier and--” Finnick doesn’t hear anymore. He’s rushing down the hall to her room. Denial pulses through him. Livi or Dr. Pronius hadn’t said anything to him about her being ready to be released. He isn’t ready for her to be gone. 

But the room is empty. Katniss is gone just as quickly as she had come to the Capitol. Something feels off, and at first Finnick thinks that it is just his paranoia but then he smells it: an overpowering floral scent. His blood runs cold as he sees the pristine white rose sitting the table next to a new bouquet of daffodils. Beneath it is a note. 

He picks up the small, crisp card, careful not to touch the toxic flower but the words are just as bad as the bud. 

“Dreams can just as easily be nightmares.” 

That was it. One simple sentence that carried an edge of terror. Snow had been listening to them, probably even watching them. Finnick knew that the entire Tribute Center was monitored and he suspected their phones were tapped, meaning Snow had known for years about their relationship, so what had finally set him off?

Marriage. They had talked about marriage, which between Snow’s two most profitable sex slaves was tantamount to rebellion. With everything else that was going on in the country right now he was sure that Snow would be on edge about any talk that sounded remotely disloyal - especially if it was from Katniss. His hand curls into a fist, crushing the paper. How could he have been so stupid?

“I’m sorry you missed her.” Finnick jumps as Livi, oblivious as usual, walks into the room carrying new sheets and towels for the attached bathroom. “I think she would have liked to stay until you came but when the President of Panem comes to collect you, you go.”

His heart thuds in his chest. “President Snow was here?”

“Oh yes!” Livi says. “I was so surprised! He is so dignified. Did you know that--” 

Finnick’s rapid heartbeat drowns out the rest of her words. Snow had come here _personally_. Was it Katniss’ fight against the Peacekeepers or their conversation that concerned him more? Worse, what had the President done about it? 

Finnick’s mind reels with possibilities, each worse than the last as he stumbles back down the hall. It is going to be at least three more days until he can get answers and the waiting just might kill him. 

Finding his way back to the Tribute Center in a haze of worry, Finnick punches the button for floor twelve. Katniss hadn’t been there for months, but he needs to feel closer to her. He collapses on the bed, burying his head into the pillow in a vain hope that he would be surrounded with the scents of the wood. There is nothing there but a the residual smell of perfume and a slight crinkling. 

Blinking, Finnick pulls his face back and reaches into the pillow case. His hands find a small envelope, crumpled and elaborately decorated. The gold foil and embossed flowers on the paper puzzle him, but the gentle wisp of perfume - lily if he wasn’t mistaken - gives him a hint of the owner. 

“Effie?” He whispers, ripping open the sealed packet. Inside is an equally ornate note, complete with the initials ‘EPT’ across the top, but the handwriting certainly didn’t match. Finnick has seen her looping script before, but the hurried scrawl below wasn’t hers. He had seen it only once before on a note in a silver package with accompanied by a length of rope. 

The letter is short, something he is coming to suspect is par for Katniss. “I’m done with nightmares. I want to dream again. You and me and a cabin by the sea. -K” 

Gently, he put the crumpled letter into his jacket and he sighed, pulling her words and the pillow closer to his heart. He was more than ready to live that dream with Katniss, and when he got back to District Four he was going to start working for it.

*****************

It had been one month - a _whole_ month - since he had returned home from the Capitol and one hellish month since he had talked to Katniss. Finnick had called her the second he had returned home, but the immediate dial tone had done nothing but instill more fear in him. It had been the same when he called Vick and Haymitch. He did however reach Effie in the Capitol, so it was just calls to District 12 that had been blocked.

Finnick had a good idea who had authorized _that_. 

_Dreams can just as easily be nightmares._

Snow was trying to separate them. Why? Finnick wasn’t sure - to get under her skin, to get under his, to show his power, to punish one or both of them for even thinking about a future - the list was endless. The reason didn’t really matter, what matter was how they responded to it - and Finnick had absolutely no idea what Katniss was doing. He just hoped that it wasn’t getting into a brawl with every Peacekeeper in District 12. 

Her words had filled him with hope. To him they were more powerful than the graffiti tags all across the district. Knowing that Katniss was finally ready to fight made him more determined than ever. The problem now had been finding the rebellion. Being so high profile, no one wanted to discuss anything with him. He had tried the docks and the fish markets but everyone from the deck hands to the fishmongers refused his advances. One even called him a ‘Capitol Lap Dog’. 

He wasn’t surprised. Many people in the district distrusted him. Annie and Mags were loved across the district, even Jackson was well liked, but Finnick didn’t even have that. The media coming out of the Capitol did little for his reputation. ‘Capitol Lap Dog’ was actually nicer than anything he would have come up with if things were reversed. 

The whole situation had him frustrated. Without lifting a finger Snow had effectively cut off every avenue Finnick could think of within the district of contacting the rebellion. Somehow he had to figure out how to make inroads into their network because sitting around doing nothing was driving him mad. 

He sat on the porch of his house, letting the sounds of the sea and the feel of the rope in his hand calm his mind. He lost himself in the knots - doing and undoing them - making practical knots used on ships and impractical ones that looked like flowers or squares. Thinking about knots was easier than thinking about Katniss or the budding rebellion. 

He was so focused that he didn’t hear her call his name or walk onto the deck, but he certainly noticed the bag that was dumped unceremoniously onto his lap.

“What the--Annie?” Finnick says, startled. Annie lets out an annoyed huff as she sits down in the chair next to him. The evening sun catches in her auburn hair, highlighting the hint of red. He blinks and looks out at the orange and pink light on the horizon. When had it gotten so late?

“I went to the Sunday Market today.” She snaps, crossing her arms. Finnick winces. He had promised to take her and had forgotten. 

It was spring now, which meant that the Judiciary Square Sunday Market was in full swing. Every Sunday all the storefronts open and stalls line the center of the square, peddling everything from fresh baked goods to handmade wares. It was one of Annie’s favorite activities, on her good days at least. Sometimes it still was a bit overwhelming, but her eyes always light up at the prospect. 

She had been looking forward to it, especially since she had been growing more and more worried about Finnick - and he didn’t blame her. Finnick usually wasn’t home, and he wasn’t telling Mag or Annie where he was going. Not only were some of the places he was frequenting less than savory, but he didn’t want them involved in the rebellion. It was dangerous and he didn’t want to drag them down with him if he got caught. 

“Sorry Annie.” He says, withering further under her cool glare. Annie was hard to anger, but once earned, her ire was terrifying. Thankfully her forgiveness was easier to gain. “Did you go alone?” 

She shakes her head. “I went with Joe. Be glad that he is a better person than I am or else there wouldn’t be any cookies left.” 

He smiles at her, putting every drop of charm he had into that smile. “You brought me cookies?”

“Yes.” Annie says, her demeanor softening at his childlike excitement. “We stopped by Chloe’s stand as we left.” 

Finnick rips open the bag and pulls out a large, pale cookie with a golden center and large flakes of white on top: Chloe’s sea salt caramel cookies. He hummed in pleasure as he took a generous bite of the crunchy, gooey confection. In the last few years he’s had ample opportunity to explore the city, since he didn’t really have much else to occupy his days, and he found that Chloe’s sea salt caramel cookies blew everything else out of the water. To say he was an addict would have been an understatement. 

“You, Annie, are the best!” He says around a mouthful of sweets. Annie laughs, blushing ever so slightly. 

“There are a few others in there, but Chloe put the bag together too fast for me to even catch everything. I think it’s mostly caramel though.” 

He rifles through the bag as the current cookie he was working on hung out past his lips. He recognized some of them - a lemon bar, double chocolate (Annie’s favorite), and shortbread - but his hand stilled as he held the last cookie. It was smaller than the others so it had quickly fallen to the bottom of the bag. It was a jam sandwich and imprinted on the top was a circle with a branch of dark berries in the center. 

“You said Chloe packed this bag for you?” He asks, trying to keep his voice level as he pushes the smaller confection back to the bottom of the bag. 

Annie frowns slightly, “Yes.”

He smiles again, shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “I’ll have to thank her next week. It’s a great selection.” 

Annie nods, seemingly satisfied with this answer. She then looks at him nervously and pulls out a smaller bag, brown and sealed with a small sticker. “I also got you this. Ever since you returned from the Capitol, you seem...lost. And I know how making knots helps. I thought, well I thought that this could help even more.” 

Finnick frowns, taking the bag from her. Her blush intensifies as he opens the bag and she can hardly look up from her hands when he finally pulls out the contents. It’s a cord that it is the color of sea on a clear day. It’s soft and smooth, made of a high quality silk that slides through his fingers. It’s bundled up tightly but he can tell there is easily three meters of the silk rope. 

“Is this..” He trails off, running his fingers over the cord’s soft sheen. Rope of this quality was only used for one thing: marriage bracelets. Katniss’ words flow through his mind. _You and me and a cabin by the sea_. She hadn’t mentioned marriage, but his ever hopeful mind had jumped there the second he had read those words. 

Annie nods. “We were walking by and saw the knotting table. I couldn’t help myself. It’s the same color as your eyes.” 

He looks back down at the cord and realizes that she’s right. It’s probably as close as any rope was going to get to his eyes. The soft blue-green was bright and he could imagine it against Katniss’ olive skin.

“It is.” Is all that Finnick can manage. His mind is already imagining how different knots would look around Katniss’ wrist. There were a few he had in mind and with the silken cord they would end up being small and delicate allowing for him to make more elaborate knots for the marriage bracelet. He shakes his head, refusing to let his dreams get too far ahead of reality - not that he usually succeeded. “Annie, not that I don’t appreciate it, but why?”

Her hands clenched into her flowing skirt. “I heard you talking with Mags. I know you are going to volunteer for Jackson.”

“Annie...”

“I can’t even think about it. If I had to--” She cuts off and her eyes glaze over. In a second her hands are reaching for her face, but Finnick grabs them and pushes them back down. 

“You’re not though. You’re going to stay safe in the Tribute Center.” He says, and her eyes snap back to him. He sighs, glad he caught her flashback before it started. “But that still doesn’t explain why you got me the knotting rope.” 

She takes a deep breath. “‘It’s a struggle to survive the Games, and it doesn’t stop after we get out. So you need to find something worth fighting for.’ You said that to me once. I never forgot it. I don’t want you to forget that either. This,” She clasps his hand and the cord between her own. “This is your reason.”

He glances down at the sea-green cord and Annie’s shaking hands. He knew what he was fighting for, his problem was figuring out how to. But he understood what Annie was trying to say and why. 

“Alright Annie.” He says, disentangling himself from her. He stands and wraps the cord - all three meters of it around his wrist. “I’ll remember.” 

She beams at him, and Finnick smiles back. 

_You me and a cabin by the sea._

Holding on to a dream in the Arena might just be what he needs to come back out again.

*****************

The Judiciary Square Market is packet as it usually is on Sundays. Vendors call from their stands trying to attract customers and the smell of fish and bread consume everything. Everything is the same, but Finnick can’t help but notice the increased presence of the Peacekeepers. Pairs dressed in white weave through the crowd holding their weapons tightly as they scan the throngs of people. Some are more diligent about it - Finnick can see two flirting with a pair of girls - but the fact they were here meant that he needed to be careful. 

Chloe’s Confections was towards the north end of the market, right next to the Judiciary Building. Her brightly colored stall was always easy to spot with it’s green and blue canopy and crisp white siding. Chloe’s face lights up when she sees him walking towards her. She is a family friend of Mags’ and the godmother to little Marie. As a result, she has always been a fan of his - one of a handful outside the Victor’s Village. 

“Finnick! How are you?” She says reaching out and hugging him awkwardly over the pile of breads and sweets.

“I’m good. What kind of cookies do you have today?” He asks, looking over her selection. Out of the corner of his eye he spies a pair of Peacekeepers loitering close to the entrance of the Justice Building. 

“A whole plate of your favorite, plus some new ones for you to try out. How many can I get for you?” She hands him one of the caramel confections, still warm thanks to the small heater in the base of the cart. He smiles, happily munching on the cookie. Even though he’s not exactly here for them, he will never turn down her baking. 

“I was hoping to get a mix bag dozen, just like you made for me last week. Thanks for those by the way. There were some new cookies I hadn't gotten a chance to try yet.”

Chloe’s eyes sharpen on him and dart over to the Peacekeepers for a fleeting moment. “Liked those did you? Which of the new ones was your favorite? I’ll make sure to put some in today’s assortment.” 

“The raspberry bars definitely, and those delicious jam sandwiches - I really loved those. They were a pleasant surprise.” 

“Aren’t they just?” Chloe says. “I wish I could take credit for them though. A friend of mine actually makes them. I keep telling him to open up shop here because he has so many supporters. He’ll be surprised to hear that you are such a fan.” 

Finnick smirks. “Oh I am more than a fan. I would be happy to support his growing business. I have plenty of funds if that’s what he’s lacking.” 

Chloe looks at him for a moment, slightly skeptical and clearly worried. She had clearly meant the cookie as a sign of support, but she hadn’t expected Finnick to offer to join the cause. This however was the closest he had been to contacting the rebellion and he wasn’t going to let it slip by. 

“Look,” Finnick says, leaning over the counter and snatching another cookie. “How about you give me his address and I’ll go talk to him. I’m sure I can persuade him to take a chance on me. After all, everyone deserves to enjoy these cookies. Denying people the opportunity would just be a crime.” 

She rolls her eyes and smacks his hand away as he goes for a lemon bar. “Alright! You win.” She grabs a piece of paper and writes down an address, shoving it into the bag of cookies. “His name is Liam. Tell him I sent you or else that stubborn ass will ignore you.”

Finnick grabs the bag of cookies and kisses Chloe on the cheek. “Thank you.” He slips her payment for the cookies and darts off, weaving through the crowd with a huge smile on his face.

*****************

Finnick waits three days before going to the address Chloe gave him. He takes side routes, runs errands, and does everything he can think of to make sure that he doesn’t have any white shadows following him. It’s early evening when he arrives at the small shop. To his surprise it actually _is_ a bakery.

A bell on the door rings as he opened the door and the girl behind the counter smiles at him brightly. “Hello--” The rest of her greeting dies on her lips when she recognizes him and her cheeks flush bright red. 

“Hello.” Finnick says, putting on his most charming smile. Her blush deepens and he blames his dimples - Katniss had been right, they are powerful. “I was looking for something in particular. Perhaps you’ll be able to help me.” 

Her mouth opens, but the small squeak she lets out clearly isn’t the words she was hoping for and she slams her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. He chuckles and lets her compose herself before continuing. 

“My friend Chloe, of Chloe’s Confections, gave me this blackberry jam cookie - best cookie I’ve ever had - and told me that it came from this store. Do you have anymore?”

The girl opens her mouth to answer but is cut off by a gruff voice. “No. We don’t.” 

Finnick pears around her to see a young man through the doorway in the back. He’s carrying a large tray of cookies and glaring daggers. He would perhaps be intimidating - tall, strong, angry - but the spatters of flour covering parts of his hair and arms destroys the image. 

“You must be Liam, the famed baker. I am -”

“I know who you are.” He snaps, coming through the door. He sets down the cookies with a large clang. 

Finnick looks down at the cookies then back up at the man. “No need to hurt innocent baked goods. I just wanted to talk to you about --”

“No.” 

“No? But I --”

“No.” 

Finnick sighs, growing increasingly frustrated. Still smiling, Finnick leans across the counter, looking the defensive man in the eyes. “Look buddy --”

“No, _you_ look.” Liam says. “I have nothing to say to you, so you can just leave.” 

Finnick sits back, digging his heels in. “I think I’ll stay.” 

Liam picks up the tray and walks away. “Then you are just wasting your time.” 

“Good thing I have plenty of it then!” Finnick calls back. His only response is an irritated growl. He looks over at the wide eyed girl. “Is he always like that?”

*****************

Finnick stays until closing, and when Liam refuses to talk to him, Finnick comes comes back the next day - and the next day, and the next. Every morning Finnick would arrive as soon as the bakery opened and ask to talk to Liam, and every day Liam would refuse. So Finnick would by a few baked goods and settle down on the steps by the door. The bakery is small, basically just a counter and an entry way, so Finnick sits down outside - far enough away so he’s not blocking business, but close enough that he is noticeable. He makes sure that Liam can see him and he winks at the glowering man every time he comes out from the back.

The girl, who he has learnt is named Hannah, is a very shy girl. Anything outside of saying hello and thanking customers for their purchase causes her to stutter and stumble over her words. On the first day Finnick tried to have an actual conversation with her, he was sure she was going to faint from how much blood had rushed to her cheeks. Ever since then he decided to stop. He didn’t want to be responsible if the girl fainted - it was something that had happened more than once. 

Liam on the other hand was not so amused by his presence. Every time the baker saw Finnick his face turned into a dark scowl and he grumbled profanities under his breath. He did his best to ignore the victor but when gossip spread around the area that Finnick was spending his time at the small bake shop, he finally snapped.

The bakery closed early every day, usually having sold all their goods by two to three in the afternoon. The bright blue door would close and Hannah would flip the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ and that would be it for Finnick. Today, Hannah shot him a sympathetic glance when she came to lock the door - blushing when she met his eyes as usual - but the mumbled apology is the first time she has talked to him in a few days. 

Finnick sighs, getting up and dusting off his pants. Another day wasted. His mind is too busy thinking about ways to get Liam to talk, to get his attention, to get _anything_ from the man when he is roughly hauled into the small alley way between the bakery and the neighboring building. 

Liam slams him against the wall, his large hands are strong and hold Finnick in a vice-like grip as he pressed him into the wall with a forearm to the throat. Finnick gasps, but doesn’t fight back. 

“This is your last warning. Don’t show up tomorrow.”

“I will.” Finnick coughs as the pressure increases. 

“I can make it so you can’t.” Liam hisses and Finnick can see it in his eyes, under the anger is the abhorrence for the creature in front of him. He recognizes it easily; staring back at him in the mirror time and time again. This is Snow’s greatest weapon against him and he is tired of suffering under it’s biting restraint.

Liam might be stronger, but Finnick is a _victor_. Bringing his knee up hard, he connects with side of Liam’s leg forcing the man down and away from him. The small space gained from the attack was enough for Finnick. Twisting he grabs Liam’s arm and spins the man so that he is the one pressed into the wall. 

“So can I.” Finnick growls as Liam struggles. He releases him after a minute, putting as much distance between the two of them as the small alley allowed. “But I don’t want to. _You_ are not my enemy. In fact, I am hoping that you’ll be my ally.”

Liam rubs his jaw, slightly scratched from brick wall. “Why would I want to work with the Capitol’s pet?”

“Because I can give you something that the rebellion is lacking.”

“And what is that? Money? Weapons? Man-power? Thanks, but we have all we need.”

“Connections.” Finnick says, crossing his arms. He had three days to think about this. Three days to come up with the perfect reason for them to let him join. Liam was right, he was the Capitol’s pet - an unwilling one, but a pet nonetheless. Letting someone as high profile as him into the rebellion would be a risk, and Finnick had to give them something that would be worth it. 

“Connections?” Liam says, raising an eyebrow.

Finnick nods. “Unlike the rest of you, I have them. This little rebellion won’t go succeed if it’s just us. Snow will crush us under his heel like we are no more than a bug. This needs to be bigger than just District Four - this rebellion needs to come from every district. I can help with that. I can send messages to other districts, get news, help you _make connections_.” 

Liam is quiet for a moment. He stares at Finnick and he knows that his future rest on Liam’s next words. Everything Finnick had said was a gamble. He didn’t really know how to coordinate across the Districts, but they needed to. If they gave Snow a single target he would come down on them hard - District 12 was a perfect example of that, but if they could cause Finnick to strain Snow’s resources, make him try to put out 12 fires at once then they might just stand a chance. 

“Bringing someone like you into the rebellion isn’t my decision.” Liam mumbles with a sigh. 

“Then let me talk to them. All I am asking for is a chance to fight. I have earned at least that much.”

Liam nods, clearly hating the idea even as he agrees to it. “Next Saturday. Be here at midnight.”

*****************

The streets are empty as Finnick walked down them. The only people out are drunkards and Peacekeepers and since he is neither, he does his best to stick to the shadows. He takes back alleys and winding roads to get to the bakery, but he makes it relatively on time. 

“Liam?” He whispers, unable to see signs of anyone else. 

“Not quite.” Comes the rough voice, heavy with the mumbling accent accustomed to his home. 

_Betrayed._

Finnick spins, but he isn’t fast enough for the punch that lands him on his ass. He registers the crack of bone against wall as his head hits the bricks, but the darkness that rushes onto him leaves no time to think of much else as his succumbs to unconsciousness.

*****************

“Did you have to hit him?” Says a voice.

“I think it looks good on him.” Says another, slightly higher, effeminate and very amused. 

Finnick groans, turning over. There is a pounding in his head, but he’s unsure if it’s from the ambush or the blinding light above him. The room seems empty - just him, the light and shadows, but the voices means he’s not alone and if the shuffling of feet and clothes are any indication, there are more than just the two.

“Where am I?” He croaks as he brings his hand up to his head. There is a bump and a sticky wetness in his hair that is starting to dry and cake. He was not looking forward to showering later. 

“The place you’ve been trying to get to for weeks.” Says the first voice. “Welcome to the rebellion Mr. Odair.” 

“Glad to be here. Is this how you normally treat your new recruits?”

The second voice laughed lightly. It definitely belonged to a female. “Just the popular ones.”

Finnick sits up, smiling in the direction of the voice. “Popularity is such a curse, but what can you do when you look like this?”

“So humble.” She says.

“And confident. Don’t forget that.” Finnick says, smirking. “So, how is this going to go? You ask the questions and I give you answers or are you going to send your brutes after me again? I’m hoping for the first you know. I’ve got to keep this face camera ready after all.” 

“You’re safe.” The man says. “As long as you aren’t working for the Capitol.” 

Finnick sighs. “I’m a citizen of District Four. Just like you. I have no love for Snow.”

“So we’ve heard, but I find it hard to believe. After all, you have a reputation.”

“It’s that reputation that you need.” 

“Really?” Scoffs the woman. “How is a skirt chaser going to help us?” 

Finnick smirks. “You’re a woman, you must know how they gossip. I have heard things. For example, I can tell you which districts are in active rebellion and which are like us, just waiting for their moment.”

“The fighting’s already started?” 

Finnick nods. “In Districts seven, eight and eleven. Twelve’s not far behind either.” 

He wasn’t sure about the last one, but he he hope. The first three he knew for sure. During his most recent, very long trip to the Capitol the women had been talking. The shortages were small, ribbons, crackers, and paper, but they were vexed by the situation not being used to any restrictions at all. And they got worse during his stay. More and more goods were unavailable and he knew exactly what that meant.

“Twelve?” Says the man. “The Hawthorne boy is fighting?” This sends a ripple of murmurs through the shadows. It’s loud and Finnick realizes that there are more people than he thought - much more. 

“How do you know?” Asks the woman.

“Katniss.” Finnick says. “We’re...close.” 

“Bullshit.” Snaps a new voice from the crowd. “Why would she ever sully herself with someone like you?”

“It’s true! I’ve seen them on television together!” Says another voice. Then, it is chaos. People arguing for and against him. Insults and innuendos - violent and sexual - are thrown around. The two main voices from before call for order, but there is none to be found.

“Enough!” Says a deep, loud voice. Finnick stands a bit straighter, recognizing it. Footsteps echo through the room and from the shadows emerges a tall, broad man. 

“Joe?” Finnick asks. Joe Cresta smirks down at him. 

“Finnick.” He turns to the crowd. “This man is a good man. Mags trusts him and so does my Annie. Liam!” Joe calls into the crowd. “You asked me once why I was fighting. It’s because the Capitol took my little sister and tried to make her into a murder. She came home broken and afraid but it was this man that brought her back to us. If he will fight for us as hard as he had fought for my Annie, than I will stand with him.” 

“And Everdeen, are you really friends with her? Can you get her a message?” Liam says, stepping into the light. 

“Yes.” Finnick says. He’s not sure how yet, but he is determined to do so, if not for them, then for his own piece of mind.

“Then I will stand with him too.” Liam says, holding out a hand. Finnick grasps it with a grateful smile.

“Well then.” Says the first voice. The man steps into the light, followed by a woman - most likely the owner of the second voice if her smirk is any indication. “I guess you’re in.” 

“Good.” Finnick says, smiling wider. “Where do you want to start?”


	8. Fourth Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Oh hey, bet you guys thought I was dead. Sorry for how long this update took. I was struggling with some of it, and while I've gotten it to a point where I'm happy enough with it, I'm still not thrilled, but can't seem to quiet place what's bothering me about the chapter. Let me know what you guys think about it and maybe you can help me. Thanks so far for everyone who has read/reviewed/followed. Every little email from FF.net makes me smile. 
> 
> PS: Sorry for another intense interlude. Somehow I feel like the story is falling into a pattern. That means that next chapter will have some fluffy moments to balance out all the horrible, horrible things I do to the characters in the interim. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns all the characters and world. If I owned the Hunger Games they would have been twice as long - at least.

“On this, the 75th anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate our third Quarter Quell. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, in this the Quarter Quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district. Victors will present themselves on Reaping Day, regardless of age, state of health or situation.”

Katniss knew that she had been holding Prim’s hand tightly. She knew that she had been sitting on her couch, in her living room, in her home in District 12. She knew that Vick was there along with the rest of the Hawthornes. 

But all those facts seemed as strange as the words that had come from Snow’s lips. 

Prim shrieks, her mother sobs, Hazelle clutches Vick and Katniss feels nothing but confusion. Reaped from the victors? That wasn’t right. Victors were supposed to be safe from the Reaping. That was the deal, it was always the deal with Snow: play the game and live another day. 

“Katniss!” Prim cries, holding her close and Katniss can smell the faint scent of willow bark and flowers in the girl’s hair. It was the same smell she had carried her whole life, the smell of a healer. It had been the one thing that had comforted Katniss in the Justice Building before her Games.

With a sharp intake of breath the realization set in. Snow had changed the rules. _Reaped from the victors_. District 12 only had three victors: Vick, Haymitch and her. She was going back into the Games, the place of nightmares. 

Her chest tightens, struggling to breath. The world constricts into a pinpoint, pressing down on her. Prim’s arms are holding her too tightly, her spacious living room is too small, and Snow’s noose is closing around her neck. 

She is trapped. 

She runs, escaping into the crisp spring night. The open air is easier to breathe and Katniss fills her lungs with each inhalation. She runs through town, through the Seam and up to the edge of the Meadow before she finally stops. It is instinct more than actual thought that stops her, conditioned to the humming of the electrified fence. 

She falls to her knees. There is no escape. No freedom. 

There is only Snow with his bright eyes, reading that innocuous yellow envelope with sadistic glee. It hadn’t been surprised delight but satisfaction that colored his twisted smile - he had _known_ what was in the envelope. Whatever horror his ancestors had planned had been replaced by this. 

_Of course_. It was too perfect. He was going to crush the last bit of hope that the victor’s represented - the hope of surviving the worst of the Capitol’s plans. He pulled all the strings. He controlled the fate of every single citizen and played with it like a child plays with a puppet.

Katniss pushes herself up out of the mud, realizing for the first time the chill of the evening. Her legs struggle to move, frozen as they are, and each step stings. Glancing down Katniss realizes that she had left her home barefoot and the soles of her feet are now torn to shreds. If Vick could see her now he would yell at her recklessness. 

Vick. He was a victor now. _Reaped from the victors_. He could be reaped again. Him, Haymitch, Finnick, Mags, Annie, Johanna, and so many more. She was going to go into the arena with her friends, people she knew and loved, and to come back out again she would have to kill them. 

Could she do it? She knew the answer immediately: No, she couldn’t. The image of Haymitch with an arrow through his chest penetrates her foggy thoughts, followed by Johanna with a knife in the back, and Annie holding her bleeding abdomen. Immediately her dinner comes back up. She retches on the steps of the Justice Building until there is nothing left but bile. It seems oddly appropriate and pulls a hysterical laugh from her chest. 

“Feeling better there sweetheart?” Haymitch asks, pulling her up and over to sit on a clean step. At first Katniss thinks he might be a hallucination, especially since he’s offering her liquor, one of the few bottles of the good stuff he always smuggles home from the Games. 

She takes a few large gulps from the bottle, coughing as it burns down her throat. “No.” She croaks. 

Haymitch laughs darkly. “Good. I’d be worried about you if you were.” He leans back on the steps staring up at the full moon. “Everyone’s looking for you, you know? Even that sister of yours is waddling around with her giant belly.” 

Katniss glances down at her feet with a wince. She was covered in mud and blood. Her sister was going to have a fit. She manages another large swig from the bottle before Haymitch takes it from her. 

“You’ve had enough.” He growls, drinking deeply himself. Unlike Katniss he seems unaffected by the burn and lets out a satisfied hum around the lip of the bottle. 

“I’m still awake, so I haven’t.” 

“Fine. You’ve had enough of this. I’m up for sharing, but my generosity only goes so far with whiskey of this caliber. You want to get piss ass wasted go get Ripper’s white shit from under my bed.” 

She stands, brushing off the dirt from her pants before realizing the futility of the move. “Maybe I will.” 

“Doubt you’ll get there. Vick is standing guard, waiting for you to come back. Unlike you,” He gestures to her with a sneer, “He’s done the math.”

“What do you mean?”

“Boy came to me before I could even reach for the bottle and begged me to let him go into the arena. He knows you are going in and wants to go with you. Demanded it actually. Talked to me like I was going to fight him over it.” 

“He _what_?!” Katniss snaps. She had known that he could be reaped but she hadn’t actually believed that he would. There had been a disconnect in her mind but it was all finally coming together with painful clarity. “And you agreed?”

Haymitch shrugged. “Do you really think anything I say is going to stop him?” 

“No.” She hisses, stomping off towards the Victor’s Village. “But I will.”

*******************

They fight. Katniss throws things. Vick doesn't give in.

Then Finnick calls. He is going to volunteer too.

Katniss finally makes it to Haymitch's place and finds his stash of white liquor and drinks herself into oblivion.

The next morning is rough. Sounds are louder than they have any right to be, her stomach has nothing in it and still decides to empty itself, and she cries like a baby into her mother's arms. Katniss didn't make it more than a few seconds before she falls into her mother's embrace sobbing. Prim arrives soon after and the three woman cry themselves dry.

Prim brings news from town. One hundred new Peacekeepers had arrived sometime in the night. They were already on patrol and working in the square. The worn whipping posts and stocks had already been removed and they were building new ones.

Things were changing in District 12 and it wasn't for the better.

*******************

“They are bringing in another.” Katniss says as she runs through the door. Vick curses softly to himself. She didn’t even have to elaborate - there had already been three whippings this week. They were all from the Seam, two of them had been caught with goods that weren’t exactly legal and the final had been caught rifling through the baker’s trash cans. The last had been a child, hungry and desperate, scrounging for much needed food because the extra parcels Vick had won for his District had arrived last week but were moldy and rotten. The kid was still laying in one the spare bedrooms in his house being tended to by his mother.

The new head Peacekeeper, Thaddeus Wright, was brutal. He exacted each and every whipping himself, even for crimes that traditionally didn’t require one. Stealing from trash was supposed to land a person in the stocks, not laying down face down in Vick’s bed with their back in ribbons. Peacekeeper Wright said he was _making an example of the boy_. It made some people scared but it was only making Vick angry. 

“Clear the table.” Prim snaps grabbing her bottling supplies by the armful. Mrs. Everdeen runs from the room while the two clean their makeshift surgery space - still slightly bloody from their last patient - and start gathering supplies. Vick knew what Mrs. Everdeen was going for: the Witch Hazel and Tea Tree oil to clean the wounds, the Calendula cream to reduce the bleeding and the Comfrey and Goldenthread salve to promote new skin growth once the bleeding has stopped. A few months ago they would have used a snow pack to help with the pain, but spring had finally come to District 12 and that, sadly, wasn’t an option. The only thing they had now was Haymitch’s ample liquor stash.

“Katniss, we are running low on a lot of these.” Mrs. Everdeen says as she returns with bottles and bandages. “Can you--”

The door bursts open and everyone turns, expecting a rush of people and some sort of makeshift stretcher. They are not prepared by the influx of white - a dozen Peacekeepers flood in, pushing the three healers and Katniss out the door. 

“Hands off.” Vick growls, pulling one Peacekeeper away from Prim when he handles the pregnant woman too roughly. At five months she was starting to get large and anyone with two eyes could see the condition she was in. 

The Peacekeeper backhands him, sending Vick reeling and his hand instinctively reaches for his cheek. “Vick!” Prim yells, sitting next to him and holding the him close to her. He lets her, not embarrassed in the least as Katniss and Mrs. Everdeen stand protectively between them. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Everdeen says before Katniss can bite out the insult that Vick knows is on her lips. 

“By order of Head Peacekeeper Wright, you are ordered to stop any and all administration of aid. Your healing practice is in violation of Capitol Law and will no longer be tolerated. All medicines, herbs and written contraband will be destroyed.” 

“You can’t do that!” Katniss says hotly and Mrs. Everdeen holds her daughter back with one arm.

“District 12 has had an apothecary for generations. We have had no such problems with Capitol Law before.” She says evenly. 

“There is a difference between brewing tea and playing doctor.” Says another voice. They turn and walking down the path with two more soldiers is Head Peacekeeper Wright. His white uniform has splotches of red coloring the front and the riding whip the man always carries taps impatiently against his leg as he walks. Vick swallows, his eyes glued to the whip as it comes up to touch Mrs. Everdeen gently under her chin leaving a smear of blood on her pale skin. 

“Doctors are trained in the Capitol in the most advanced healing techniques. You’re backyard remedies are uneeded with such skilled physicians on hand. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that your pedestrian cures do more to hurt than to heal. We are doing the population a favor.” 

Vick sees Katniss move to intervene but Prim reaches out to stop her. He is grateful. Victor or not attacking the Head Peacekeeper would end up in a whipping if not something worse. 

“There are only three doctors in District 12.” Mrs. Everdeen argues. “And they only tend to the miners injured on the job.”

“Treatments can also be purchased.” Wright says, his voice drawn out as if already bored by the conversation. 

“Most can’t afford to pay.” 

“That,” He says, snapping the whip against his leg with a crack. “Is not my problem.” He turns to the Peacekeepers. “Strip the apothecary and burn the supplies.”

“NO!” Vick shouts, standing. 

“Would you rather I burn down the whole house?”

That stops him. This house, no matter that is was bought and paid for with the blood of children, was his home. He had no memory of the Hawthorne house in the Seam. Even though it was still technically theirs, he had never had the desire to visit it. His home was in the Victor’s Village and he could not, would not, watch it burn. 

“That’s what I thought.” Wright sneers. With the flick of his hand all but three of the officers head back into the house. First they bring out the small butcher’s block that had become the Everdeen’s surgery table Vick can hear the sounds of glass breaking even from out here as they tear apart a library of herbs that has taken ten years to build. 

The dried plants make for good kindling and the table keeps the fire raging for hours as the Peacekeepers rip the house apart room by room. Like a sick parade they emerge from the house carrying jars by the armful. Every time they throw a new batch onto the flames the air becomes fragrant for a few minutes before it degrades into the horrible acrid smell of ashes and Vick knows that smell with stay with him forever. 

He shakes in Prim’s arms as he watches his sanity be stripped from him. The apothecary had been his salvation. Working for the good of the District had brought him back from the darkness that consumed him after the games. The pain is almost physical, like they have taken a part of him and thrown it to the flames. 

They sit and watch it all under the attentive gaze of Head Peacekeeper Wright and his guards, knowing that resistance in this situation is futile. Vick can see the defeat etched on each of their faces, the numbness he feels echoed by Prim and Mrs. Everdeen. Katniss however is a beacon of anger when the final Peacekeeper exits the house holding nothing but the small book. 

“This is the last of it.” He says and Katniss lunges forward reaching for the book. It was small and the leather was well worn. It’s was her father’s book of plants. Vick knew that book well. He had spent years studying and adding to it. To say that it was his life’s work would be an understatement. 

“That was my father’s!” She snaps, but two Peacekeepers hold her back. Wright takes the book, flipping through the pages one by one.

“Crude, but surprisingly good for a backwater miner.” Wright says. He rips out one page and tosses it into the fire. 

“ _Please_.” Katniss begs, her legs giving out on her as he tears out another page. “It’s all we have left of him.” 

“Then you should have kept something else.”

With a careless toss the book lands in the fire. The leather binding curls in the heat as the pages crumbled into ash. The leather doesn’t burn as fast as the pages and Vick can’t find it in him to move, his eyes drawn to the blackened book in the center of the flames.

He is finally snapped from his stupor by Prim. “Vick,” She says quietly, “Come inside.” 

Slowly he gets up, letting her lead him back into the house while the fire slowly dies.

*******************

“We’re out of St. John’s Wort.” Vick sighs, rummaging through the overly large game bag. It was filled with anything they could find to make bandages and containers for the now prohibited medicines. The glass jars clink softly as he walks and Prim puts out a hand to stop him.

“You’re making too much noise.” She says. Up ahead Rory scouts around the corner, and motions them to stop. Prim presses Vick into the wall, trying to hide both of them in the shadow of the Seam home. It’s easier for him, he doesn’t have a large belly sticking out into the light. 

Rory waves them forward, and Vick chances a glance to the right, hearing the fading voices of a Peacekeeper patrol. It was the third one they had run into tonight. There were more and more patrols on the streets recently - the number seeming to increase by the day. The paranoid part of him wondered if someone had ratted the healers out. 

After Wright had destroyed the apothecary and prohibited their services Vick and Prim had taken to coming to the Seam at night. They set up shop in the old Hawthorne house, using it as a place to store what little herbs they could get their hands on and other medical supplies. Since they couldn’t outright buy things like bandages, they bought up all the old clothes, towels, and linens they could at the Hob. Other needed supplies like needles and thread for sewing up wounds were considered payment for their services and given freely by the people of the Seam. 

It never seemed to be enough though. The beatings have decreased compared to the first month of Wright’s regime, but he made sure to have a few here and there to dissuade any rebellious thoughts. And if his threats of violence hadn’t curved people’s fight than the increase in hours in the mines did. It wasn’t winter, but according to the Capitol, last year’s ‘unusually cold’ winter had completely depleted their reserves and they needed to resupply for next year ‘just incase’. Instead of the usual 12 hour work day, they had been increased to 14 hours and Sundays were now half days instead of days off. 

The miners, while angry, were now too tired, too scared and too underfed to do anything. Whippings had been replaced with sickness and injuries due to exhaustion which meant that Prim and Vick were still swamped with people begging them for aid. 

The first week after Wright’s visit to the Victory Village was the hardest. For three days they argued about what to do - Mrs. Everdeen and Katniss being the voices of reason. Wright had made it perfectly clear what he would do to them if they were caught aiding people. According to the eldest healer there had been times like this before and if they waited it out, Wright would eventually forget about the rules and they could start practicing again. 

But that hadn’t been an option for Vick. He attended every whipping because he knew - he _knew_ \- that this was his fault. People were suffering because of him and his handful of berries. Katniss hadn’t said anything outright, trying to protect him but Vick wasn’t an idiot. He had seen the looks on people’s faces during the Victory Tour. So many looked at him with hope, adoration, an almost reverence, and those that didn’t were full of hatred and anger directed at the Capitol. 

Then there had been the riot in District Seven. Even Katniss hadn’t been able to deny that those people had fought and died because of his actions in the Hunger Games. 

Now the consequences of his actions had come crashing down around him and it was affecting the District - suffocating them under the weight of Snow’s heel. That knowledge, that guilt, was eating him inside. So Vick refused to look away, refused to turn a blind eye to the fallout. He knew why Katniss wanted to. Watching the whippings was hard enough for him knowing this was how his brother had died, but Katniss had lived it before. Yes, she was running from it, but he didn’t think she was a coward. He saw the fight in her eyes; it was the same fire in Mrs. Everdeen’s but both were tempered with experience. 

Prim and Vick didn’t have that though. 

When they heard about a miner who had died after a beating, they stole away in the dark of the night, carrying with them boiled rags and some herbs that had escaped the Peacekeeper’s fire. They hadn’t been gone ten minutes before they were caught. Lucky for them it wasn’t the authorities, but unluckily it had been Prim’s husband. Rory was livid at the thought of her sneaking around the Seam at night pregnant while Peacekeepers enforced a strict curfew. 

Somehow - and this was a testament to Prim’s skills of persuasion - Rory had agreed to let her go with an escort. So the three of them now made nightly excursions to help those who needed it most. 

Dashing around the corner they entered the relative safety of the old Hawthorne household. They had seen six patients tonight: two miners with the flu, a pregnant woman, two whipping victims, and a child with a broken arm - and those six had completely exhausted their remaining supply of herbs.

Vick threw the large canvas bag onto the old couch with frustration. Bottles and cloth fell out the opening and onto the floor with a crash making the three jump, but luckily nothing broke. 

“So..” Prim starts, picking up the bottles with a sigh, “We’re out of St. John’s Wort.”

“We are out of _everything_.” Vick snaps, running a hand through his hair. “We need to get more.”

“‘More’ means going over the fence.” Rory says, posting near the door to keep a lookout. “And the fence is always on these days.” 

“We’ll have to risk it.” 

Vick looks over to Prim for help but she just shakes her head. “There has to be another way.”

“Another way?” Rory scoffs. “Do you think we’ll get help from anyone else? The Seam is on it’s own, just like it always is. No one from town has lifted a finger to help us and they aren’t about to start now.”

“That’s not true. Madge brought us that morphling.” Prim protests, but it is weak and they all know it.

“Two syringes worth and we went through that immediately.” Vick says. 

Prim looks at Rory helpless. “You aren’t seriously thinking about letting Vick go over the fence. It’s too dangerous.” 

“‘People need help, now more than ever.’ Isn’t that what you said to Katniss?” He says, and Prim has to look away, wrapping her arms around her belly. Rory comes over and takes her into his arms. “You were right. I can see that now. We can’t stop Prim. If we stop then the last bit of hope is going to go out of them and hope is pretty much all we got these days.” 

“We need more than hope.” She says and Vick can hear the tears that thicken her voice. 

Rory kisses her on the head. “Yeah, I know, but we can’t do anything about that, so how about we start with the herbs? We’ll walk you back to the house and then Vick and I will find a place to cross. I promise, we’ll come back with more plants than you can fit in the kitchen.” 

“You’re coming with me?” Vick asks and Rory nods.

“Of course. You think I’d let you out there with no backup?”

Vick shrugs but smiles. He was the only one in the family to really go beyond the fence these days and that was for gathering medicinal plants. Once, and only once did the boys convince Katniss to teach them how to hunt. They had gotten as far as archery practice, but that had ended when Katniss had accidentally called Rory ‘Gale’. No one pushed her after that since they didn't need the food and Rory didn’t feel the need to learn. 

Still, having an extra pair of eyes, no matter how inexperienced would make him feel better. Even though Vick knew where to go to get the plants they needed he hadn’t been out past the fence after dark. Katniss had been adamant about that. 

“We need to go. Tonight.” Vick says. He empties the two bags, stacking the containers and rags on the counter. “If the flu keeps on spreading like it is we are going to need to stock up on willow bark and yarrow root too.”

Rory nods and Prim reluctantly lets him go.

*******************

“You know,” Vick hisses through gritted teeth. “I think we’re pretty lucky that you’re so strong.”

Rory laughs softly and adjusts Vick on his back. “Or that you’re so scrawny.” 

Vick smiles and buries his face into his brother’s shoulder as they take a turn quickly. The jostling run hurts, even though he has no weight on the foot. The two had been coming back from a trip over the fence - something that they did at least once a week these days, when Vick had fallen from the branch wrong. Even Rory had heard the loud snap of his ankle as he crumpled to the side. They had been lucky that Vick’s cries of pain hadn’t been heard by any of the Peacekeepers. 

The joint was already swollen, for which Vick was actually thankful. The fluid in the area was keeping his ankle from rocking too much as Rory carried him through the Seam on his back. It didn’t help with the painful throbbing or the intense jolt he got every time Rory had to change his grip on his brother. Even though Vick was smaller than Rory in every way imaginable, he was still tall and lanky making his long limbs jut out awkwardly past Rory’s torso. They stuck out so far that Rory had knocked Vick’s knees and feet multiple times on walls and corners as they dodged Peacekeeper patrols. 

“How mad do you think Prim is going to be?” Vick asks as he spies Rory’s small house in the distance. 

“I’d be more worried about Katniss.” 

Vick flinches. Katniss was becoming more and more on edge these days. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out what he and Prim were doing. It was just one more thing on the growing list of things she was mad at Vick for. They still fought about the upcoming Quarter Quell. She didn't want him going in, telling him that he was throwing away his life for nothing, but it wasn’t for nothing. It was for her. 

That was what Katniss didn’t really get. 

He was too young to remember her Games and he was grateful for that. Just the idea of her going in with Haymitch set his teeth on edge. She was family, she was his best friend, and he couldn’t let her go. He knew he was being selfish, but unlike Katniss, he didn’t think he had the strength to watch her die. 

They came in through the back door, making Prim jump and she took one look at the two of them and cursed, startling both of the men.

“You have to get out of here.” She says, pushing Rory back towards the door before he has a chance to put Vick down.

“What? Why?” Rory asks and Vick can feel his grip on him tighten.

“Peacekeepers came by looking for you not too long ago - both of you. I sent them back up to the Victor Village. You have to hurry if you want to beat them there.” 

“Ah shit.” 

Rory runs out the door and Vick bites his lip to keep the gasps of pain at bay. He didn’t need his brother worrying about how he felt right now. He could feel Rory’s arms shake and his labored breath as they climbed the hill to the Village. 

Rory came to a stop, hiding behind the ridiculous stone statue in the middle of the poorly manicured central garden. They could see the two Peacekeepers talking to Katniss on the porch of the house.

“We went by the Hawthorne household, but your sister was alone.” One of the Peacekeepers says. His words are haughty and accusing, knowing he had caught her in a lie. Katniss frowned but didn't lose her composure. 

“Get to Haymitch’s place.” Vick hisses into Rory’s ear. It was the closest. He’s glad for the grass that covers most of the garden, allowing the two sneak quietly past Peacekeepers. As Rory walks, Vick raises his arms, trying to get Katniss’ attention. 

“You know,” Katniss says, her voice louder than last time making the two Hawthorne men pause and look at her. “There are technically three Hawthorne houses. Did you check them all - or are you just too lazy to?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“No.”

The two peacekeepers look at each other, one baffled and the other growing more and more angry. “What?”

“I said ‘No’. I won’t excuse you. You have woken me up _twice_ tonight looking for Vick and Rory. I am not their keeper.” She pointed behind the two Peacekeepers directly at the Hawthornes. “But I guess it's your lucky day. There they are. Coming home from Haymitch’s drunk again.” 

It takes Vick a heartbeat before he realizes exactly what she’s done, but once he does he falls into character. “Katniss!” He shouts, slurring his words. “Wha’ ‘re you doin’ up?”

He squeezes his arms tight around Rory’s neck causing the man to choke and stumble. Vick giggles loudly as Rory catches his footing. The two Peacekeepers look at the pair dubiously.

“Get inside.” Katniss sighs and Rory sways for a moment before rushing up the stairs past the two Peacekeepers before they can catch the lack of alcohol on their breathes. 

“Now, unless you want to arrest them for drinking, which as far as I know, isn’t against the law yet leave. ” Katniss says, stepping between the Peacekeepers and the Hawthornes.

She goes to close the door in their face but the Peacekeeper puts his hand out to keep it open. “We are going to talk to Mr. Abernathy. If he doesn’t corroborate your story then we will be back.”

“He’s passed out.” Vick calls, hoping they don’t hear the desperation in his tone. 

“If you can get him up, then feel free.” Katniss says, removing the man’s hand from the door frame. “Just know that he hates being woken up and he sleeps with a knife.” 

“He won’t attack Peacekeepers. No sane person would do that.” The second Peacekeeper says, his face turning paler by the second

“You’re right, but he’s a victor. We lost our sanity long ago.” Katniss shoots them a dark smile and then finally shuts the door. 

She turns on the two men, but stops her tirade short when she notices that Rory hasn’t put Vick down yet. She sighs and turns to go up the stairs. “I’ll go wake up mom.”

*******************

“There you go.” Greasy Sae says, placing a warm bowl of something in front of Katniss. She glances down, seeing the thin broth with chunks of something brown floating in it.

“Thanks. I think.” She takes a spoonful, trying not to gag on the bland soup and tough, chewy meat. 

“You work with what you got.” Sae says, cleaning out the pot. Katniss noticed that she only had one more on the fires instead of her usual five and the large pot looked barely half full. 

“Doesn’t look like that’s much.” She mumbles and Sae smiles sadly. 

“No one has much. People here been selling anything they can get their hands on to buy some grain, but since no one is buyin’ the merchants ain’t got nothin’ to buy it with.”

Katniss nodded. She had noticed how empty the Hob felt the second she entered. There were a few customers - two others sitting with her at Sae’s stall, a few down by Ripper’s, who somehow still managed to have a few bottles of white liquor even after the raid on her place last week, and a handful haggling with merchants. The rest were those that made their living by trading at the Hob, and with no customers they walked the alleys aimlessly. 

After she finished Katniss was determined to buy a few things from those that were the worse off, she just wished she had brought more coin with her today. 

“Times are hard.” Katniss says. “How are you holding up?”

Greasy Sae shrugs. “Still have my stand, haven’t been beaten and my granddaughter is on the mend. Thank your sister for me, next time you see her, would you?”

“Sure.” Katniss pushes the unidentifiable meat around her bowl. Her appetite was suddenly gone, not that she had one to start with. A gnarled, warm hand lands on her shoulder and she looks up at Sae. 

“We’ve been through worse.” Sae says with a smile. “A few years before you were born we had another bad Peacekeeper like Wright. Came down hard on the miners when they found a stash of dynamite in the tunnels. Four men died. It was winter and they turned off all our heat. They rationed our food and beat our miners. Your father sat there, lookin’ just like you do know and I’ll tell you just what I told him. Life in the Seam has always been hard so we just need to be like the mountain - tough as stones --”

“And twice as hard to break.” Katniss finished. It had been one her father’s favorite sayings. Whenever she had fallen down, felt like crying or giving up he would pick her up, dust her off and tell her that it was alright because she was just like the mountains. 

“I had always thought he had made that up himself.”

Greasy Sae shook her head. “Your father was always the poetic type, but that one has been around for a while. I don’t even remember where I heard it, but it has to be our outlook on life, otherwise they win. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to roll over and die just yet.”

Katniss didn’t have to ask who ‘they’ were. 

“Your father,” Sae continued, “Lived his life by that saying, just like you. He’d be proud seeing how you’ve --”

A cry rings out as light floods the old warehouse drawing the two women’s attention to the front. The main doors have been flung open and Peacekeepers flood in. Like a gaping wound, the torrent of blood and fire rain down as the men in white worked their way through the ramshackle alleyways dragging people from their stalls and burning down what was left. 

They were destroying the Hob. The Hob, where Katniss’ father taught her to trade, where she laughed and lived with Gale. The flames rise higher and she can feel their heat on her skin. 

An explosion roars from the back left corner where Ripper’s stall was full of alcohol. People run from the flames, some caught in the explosion and desperately trying to put out the fire that engulfed their bodies. 

“Katniss!” Greasy Sae hisses, tearing the woman’s eyes from the horrifying sight. She reaches across the table and takes Katniss by the arm leading her away from the carnage.

It feels like Katniss is in a dream, a horrible nightmare that she can’t seem to wake up from. People press past the two, some running in the same direction but most are in heading back towards the main doors where the Peacekeepers are herding them. When they reach the back wall, Greasy Sae pushes one of the panels to the side and it is enough for a person to fit. 

“Hurry up girl.” She says, urging Katniss through. 

The space on the other side is dark and tight and Katniss knows that she is in the crawl space between the Hob and the warehouse. Her skin is black as she shimmies out of the way to make room for the older woman, but Sae never comes. Katniss tries to get back in, but the panel is closed and none of them seem to be moving. Fear grips her and Katniss moves towards the street. 

The whole area is teaming with Peacekeepers and they are grabbing anyone and everyone they find. This is the poorest section of the Seam, people subsisting solely on hope and desperation. The Peacekeepers don’t bother searching for incriminating evidence in the shanty town, just gathering them in the street. Their homes, nothing more than shacks really, lay just on the outskirts of the mine and are so steeped in coal dust that they are ablaze in seconds. 

Thick smoke rises from the rotten wood, billowing out ferociously from the Hob. The people of the slums huddle together, pressed to the side of a warehouse as they are forced to watch as their homes and likely their livelihoods crumble to ashes. There aren’t enough though. Those that hadn’t been caught yet are screaming, trapped in the fire. 

It’s too much to take. These people have done _nothing_ , nothing but try to survive. She had been there, she knows what it is like to scrounge for food and pray to wake up again in the morning. Katniss’ feet start moving before she can think about it and she runs towards the screams. The heat of the fire burns her skin and the smoke makes it hard to breath.

“Where are you?” She calls out and the screams come again from all around her. Two houses over she finds a pair, trapped by a roof that had collapsed and slid in front of their door. Cursing, Katniss kicks and kicks until the burning wood splinters. There is barely enough room for the couple, but they make it and head back towards town. 

Katniss finds three more buildings like that, with people trapped inside that she can save, and four more where escape is impossible. She keeps moving, keeps trying until the fire is too hot and the smoke is too thick. 

Her legs are led as she struggles for another breath, and for one horrible moment she thinks she is going to die. She almost laughs at the irony of it all - the Girl on Fire dying because she really became a girl on fire. People in the Capitol would cry, but Snow would laugh. After all, he had threatened to burn her before. 

Arms hull her up, pulling her towards sweet and fresh air that she gulps down greedily. Her eyes focus first on the white gloved hands wrapped around her waist and then the flash of red hair peaking out from under a regulation helmet. 

“Just keep your head down.” Darius whispers and he hands her off to the first couple she had saved. They hold her close, whispering their thanks even as they shake. Katniss feels a drop on her cheek and she realizes that the woman is crying. 

White boots and heavy footfalls pass her accompanied by the tell tale sound of leather on plastic. _Keep your head down_. Now she understood what Darius meant. Head Peacekeeper Wright is there, eyeing up the soot covered people with a critical eye. Ducking her head, Katniss hopes that the black that covers her skin and clothes camouflages her from his scrutinization. He had been looking for reasons to imprison the victors - probably at Snow’s request - and this would be damning. 

Her vision is cut off and she looks up to see Darius standing between her and the Head Peacekeeper as he passes. She’s thankful for him, one of the few friendly ones who remained after Wright had arrived. Darius had been a friend to her and the Hob throughout the years and his presence here was a comfort. 

Most of the people cower silently as Wright paces the line, some even flinching as his ever present whip smacks his thigh harder than usual. He looks at them with thoughtfully, like he was choosing a choice cut of meat. Katniss had no idea what his plans are for the people but no matter what, it won’t be good. 

A woman at the far end tries to silence her sobbing daughter, a girl barely six, but fails horribly. Wright’s head turns slowly and he smiles slyly. For one horrible moment Katniss smells roses, but she shakes her head as she sits up straighter. He and Snow might be cut from the same cloth, but he wasn’t the president. Snow would never stoop so low as to dirty his own hands. 

Wright kneels down in front of the woman and child. He reaches out and tucks a lock of dark hair behind the girl’s ear. 

“You think this is something worth crying over?” Wright asks. “A flea infested shanty town filled with workers who can’t even work?” He takes the girl’s face in his hand, wiping away her tears. Black soot sticks to his fingers and he pulls back with a sigh. “You should be grateful girl. I am giving you a better future. The Community Home is a much more appropriate place for you.”

The mother sobs holding the girl closer to her chest. “You can’t. Only orphans go there.”

“Yes they do.” Wright says, standing again. “But I think we can make an exception. Everyone here has broken the law and will pay accordingly. Your transgressions will be assessed and if you are lucky, it will be the stocks. Someone will have to take care of the child while you are away. Tell me woman, what did you sell in this trash heap?”

“Nothing.” 

He raises his whip and places it delicately under her chin. “Do not lie to me.”

“Sex.” She rasps out and Katniss recognizes the sound of words choked with bitter tears. 

“A prostitute? Really? With a face like that?” He taps it lightly with his whip and tisks soft like he is talking to a child instead of a grown woman. “Well, that is not likely to improve. Anything else you would like to confess to?”

“No.” 

“Well then, shall we start?”

Two Peacekeepers pull the mother and daughter apart, the girl reaching out for her but the men are so much bigger and so much stronger. 

The woman is forced to her knees in front of Wright. “Do you know exactly what the law states as punishment for your crimes? Corporal punishment. That term covers a variety of things: whippings, beatings and...” He whips out his gun and shoots the woman in the head before anyone can even react. “Death.” 

The collective cry drowns out the girl’s wails and Katniss turns away instinctively. How could Wright do this? This wasn’t justice. She looks up to see Darius staring down at her with a pained expression.

“Stop this.” She whispers to him.

He shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

Wright walks down the line and picks out another making Katniss’ stomach drop. It’s Greasy Sae. She’s on her feet, struggling even as a Peacekeeper forces her back down. 

“You don’t look like a prostitute. Tell me old woman. What were you doing in the Black Market? Selling goods? Buying poached furs?”

“Greasy Sae.” Someone cries out. 

“Ah,” Wright says, “I’ve heard about you: the Hob’s soup woman. Do you deny this?”

“No.” 

“So many crimes, so damning, and yet you look at me like that. Will you still be defiant after a time in the stocks? Will you still have the strength to fight after we beat it out of you?” 

He flicks his wrist and the Peacekeeper throws Sae to the ground and starts hitting her. Punches and kicks rain down and the whole crowd visibly flinches each time his fist connects with her. The dull thud of flesh on flesh echoes the beat of Katniss’ heart, rising in tempo as she struggles to her feet. 

The woman who cradled Katniss is too shocked to think about holding her back. Darius can only stand open-mouthed as Sae is beaten, but Katniss moves. Her first step is shaky as she pushes past Darius, but the next is sure as she breaks into a run. 

Her weight crashes into the Peacekeeper, forcing the two to the ground and before he can right himself her hand slams into his unprotected throat. She rips his helmet off exposing a face that is young and scared as she unleashes a torrent of punches. 

Katniss doesn’t register the sound of crunching bone as she breaks his nose, the spurt of blood as it oozes down his face and into his mouth that is still gasping for air. She doesn’t realize her knuckles split on his teeth or her wrist strains as her hand glances off his check bone. All Katniss can think about is Sae: sweet Sae who would serve her warm soup, cheeky Sae who would banter with Gale, strong Sae who never tolerated lip from anyone, rebellious Sae who was the heart of the Hob. 

She reaches for the helmet, intending to finish the job, but she is ripped from the man’s prone form. Three Peacekeepers fall on her, one restraining her while the others deliver a beating. Her legs give out quickly, but they don’t stop even as she falls on the dirt. Vaguely, Katniss can hear voices shouting her name but all she sees are the men in white and past them the smiling face of Wright. 

She refuses to scream, refuses to show him her pain because she is a mountain.

*******************

The trees were starting to turn green and what little grass that wasn’t tinged with black was trying to grow. Just looking at it made Haymitch want to reach for his flask. He hated spring - spring meant summer was coming and summer meant the Hunger Games.

Even the warming nights couldn’t change the nightmare that everyone in District 12 was living in. 

Haymitch shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, grasping one of the flasks that he kept in his jackets at all times. They were security for moments like this, when his idiot tributes ambushed him.

Vick had pulled him aside asking to talk. Haymitch had a good idea what he was going to say, but he hoped he was wrong. 

“Miners are organizing, but they need more numbers. Rory and I want to join.”

Haymitch stops and somehow keeps himself from groaning. He was too sober for this conversation. 

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” 

Vick frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That means that if you join this little uprising you are going to get yourself, your family and your friends killed for nothing.”

“No, I won’t. This is --”

Haymitch cuts him off. “A handful of miners in the smallest, most insignificant District in Panem trying to go against a brutal tyrant who could care less about the lives of everyone here.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“No,” Haymitch says, finally reaching for his flask and taking a large swig. “You don’t know Snow. Compared to other districts like eleven and ten we are expendable. If he can’t force us into submission then he _will_ burn us to the ground. ” 

Vick swallows and his eyes lose the some of their fight. He hated to clip the kid’s wings, but it had to be done. Now wasn’t the time to fight. Information from other districts was coming in, but it was patchy at best. Even Undersee didn’t seem to know everything. So far District Seven was the only one in full rebellion and occupying a significant number of Peacekeepers. District Ten had tried to uprise but it had been put down quickly and District Eight’s rebels had barricaded themselves factories. That was it. Three districts out of 12. That was significantly less than the required seven that they needed. With that many Snow’s force of Peacekeepers would be spread thin and they would have a chance, any less and they were setting themselves up for a bloodbath. 

Vick opens his mouth to say something else but then he stops, his mouth hanging open as he stares at something over Haymitch’s shoulder. Haymitch turns and sees the smoke rising from the south. A few seconds later the faint sounds of screaming can be heard. He looks around the square and realizes that there are no Peacekeepers around.

“The Hob.” He hisses and even as the blood drains from Vick’s face, he doesn’t hesitate to run towards the trouble. 

Haymitch curses. He really wishes he had more to drink this morning.

*******************

Her mother keeps telling her that worrying isn’t good for the baby, but Prim can’t help it. Not after the events of the last three days. Her hand rubs her stomach as she paces, trying to work out her unease and failing horribly.

The Hob and the whole surrounding community had burned to the ground. There was still smoke rising from the ashes of the buildings, hanging over everyone like a thick cloud. The stocks were filled to the brim and there seemed to be a constant stream of people coming out from the Justice Building only to be whipped and returned back to the jail. No one had been released as of yet and Vick estimates that there were at least 100 to 150 people packed in there. She didn’t want to think about the still rising death toll. 

That was worrying in and of itself, but they still had no word on Katniss. Vick and Haymitch had gotten to the Hob to find chaos. Peacekeepers were struggling to keep the angry horde of people contained. It was a riot and in the center was Darius cradling Katniss’ injured body. 

Haymitch had rushed her up the road to the medical building by the mines while Vick had come to get them. By the time Prim and her mother had arrived she was already gone - taken to the Capitol due to the severity of her injuries. No one had heard anything since, not from the Capitol or Darius. 

Rory had tried to find him earlier, but apparently he and a handful of other Peacekeepers were being immediately transferred to another district. Prim knew exactly who would be on that list: every single Peacekeeper that had showed any sympathy to District 12. Wright was trying to get rid of their last support system. 

“Prim, please.” Rory says, easing her into a chair. “This isn’t helping anyone.”

The mines had been closed for the last two days. The Hob was just on the edge of the facility and while the flames didn’t seem like they were going to reach the mines, with the heavy amount of coal dust in the area no one wanted to risk a possible explosion. The only water that had been spared to quench the flames was used when it got too close to the mines, after all, the Capitol had priorities. 

“What else is there to do?” She says but sits down . Her voice is choked with tears and she can feel another hormone induced bawl coming on. Rory put his arms around her but Prim didn’t want that, she wanted her sister. 

The phone rings and Prim jumps. She pounces on the phone and out of the corner of her eye she sees the rest of the household come flooding into the kitchen. 

“Hello?” She asks, her voice shaking. 

“Ah, yes, Primrose? This is Effie. Effie Trinket, the--”

Prim cuts her off. “I know who you are.” She knows she sounds snappish and rude, but she is pregnant and her sister is in a hospital. She has little patience for anything else. “Katniss?”

“Right. Well, the good news first. She is out of surgery and stable.” 

Prim lets out an audible sigh. “And the bad news?” That makes everyone in the room perk up, her mother falling into Hazelle’s arms with a sob. 

“The bad news is that due to the extensive nature of her injuries, she will have to remain in the Capitol for a while. They are slightly concerned about damage to her brain but, and I hope I am saying this right, they have reduced the swelling but she will have to be watched and--”

Prim interrupts again. “But the doctors think she will pull through.” 

“As far as I understand it, yes.” Effie says.

Cupping the phone with her hand Prim turns to the rest of the family with a smile. “She’s going to be fine.” The relief if palpable. Her mother’s knees give out and Vick barely manages to get a chair behind her before they do. Tears prick her eyes and she shares a watery smile with Vick. “She’s going to be fine.” Prim says again and she drops the phone as hormones take over. Rory gathers her in his arms and takes her upstairs to her old bedroom while Vick reaches for the phone. 

It’s a few minutes later when Vick knocks on her door and both Rory and Prim turn to look at the boy. 

“I thought you would like to know that Effie says that Katniss will receive the best care possible. Snow is apparently paying for everything.”

Rory scoffs. “If he didn’t want to lose his tribute so close to the Games than he shouldn’t have sent his psychotic Peacekeepers here in the first place.” 

Prim places a hand on his arm which thankfully gets him to quiet down. They all knew that their home was being monitored. Katniss and Haymitch had made it perfectly clear when the three of them started sneaking into the Seam to heal people. 

Vick nods. “Looks like it.”

“As much as I hate to say it, I am glad that she’s there. Their facilities are much better than ours.” Prim sighs. “I just wish I could be there when she wakes up.”

“Don’t worry.” Vick says with a sly smile. “Apparently she’ll have some company.”

“Who? Effie?” Rory jokes and Prim cringes. That painted face featured predominantly in her nightmares last year. 

“No, someone a bit more special and a lost less humble.”

*******************

“It is another beautiful day, don’t you think?” Comes a voice from the door. Katniss heart clenches in her chest and she sits up straighter. Turning she sees President Snow dressed in his customary white suit and grandfatherly smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

He enters the room and with every step his essence permeates the space and settles on her like a heavy blanket during a fever: suffocating and maddening but inescapable. Unconsciously she reaches for her hair and pulls in over the side of her face that is still ugly and bruised. She felt weak while he was strong, and she hated it. 

“Most days in the Capitol are.” Katniss replies. 

“Yes, yes they are.” He sits down in the small chair by the window and looks at her with such ease, secure in his power. “I wonder if your family back home takes the time to enjoy afternoons like this anymore. I think it would be difficult, with conditions as they are now.” 

“Please don’t pretend to be concerned for us.” She snaps, meeting his eyes for the first time. 

“But I am. Panem is my country, the citizens are my people. I do not _want_ to hurt them. What I want is peace. That is something you can give me.” 

Katniss frowns. “How can I do that?” 

“Miss Everdeen, are you so blind to your effect on people? There is a reason you that you received so many sponsors during your game, a reason that buyers still purchase your brand of pleasure. You are still the Girl on Fire burning, perhaps, too brightly.” He steeples his fingers and leans forward so she can smell the blood on his breath. “You inspire people and fill their hearts with such unwavering loyalty. It is quite admirable. Did you know that after you attacked that Peacekeeper there was a riot in District 12? Even the men in your life show a blind dedication to you. It would not be out of line to believe that they would die for you, one already has.” 

“What do you want from me?”

“Curtail your district and leash your pets.” He sneers, his perfect veneer falling for only a second. She could see the ever present yet thinly veiled cruelty in his face shining bright for all to see. This was the man that had killed his way to the top - cunning, ruthless and egomaniacal. “If you can’t then I will put them down. One more misstep from you, one more outburst and I will not be so lenient.”

Snow stands and straightens his suit. “If you want to keep your men and your freedom than you will flush out the rebellion in District 12 and crush it from the inside. Otherwise Finnick will become a permanent resident of the Capitol until he is no longer useful.”

Katniss pales. Death would be preferable. “That would kill him.” 

“Yes, but thankfully there are always suitable replacements.” Snow smiles slowly. Vick, he was talking about Vick. He was popular, but most of the talk that she had heard hadn’t been sexual. She stupidly thought that the Capitol had wanted his mind, not his body. How many bids had already been placed on him? How much of herself would she have to sell to save him?

Snow reached out and turned her face up towards him. His fingers were as cold as his eyes. “I know what you are thinking, but there will be no bargaining for this one.”

“Why not?”

“Because, my dear Katniss Everdeen, like you, I already own him.”

*******************

Katniss was standing in her room in the Tribute Center, trying to shakily put on actual clothes when Effie found her. She had received the call and rushed over here, happy to see that her victor had been released. She had been expecting to see a happy and hale Katniss Everdeen, excited to be returned home; not this bruised, weak, shell.

“Katniss!” She gasps, sitting the half dressed woman down on the edge of the bed. “My dear you look horrible. Are they sure you are ready to be released?” There was still bruise marks on her face and from the way she sat Effie could tell there was still some damage to her sides. 

“Snow wants me back in the District. He -” Effie cuts her off. 

“Your train isn’t set to leave for another two hours. How about we get some fresh air and sun. Put some proper color back in those cheeks, hmm?” 

They make their way up to the roof and Effie smiles as she walks her over to the edge. The wind tugs at her bright pink wig, threatening to send it flying over the edge. With a sigh, she pulls it off, blushing under her makeup as she pats her her strawberry blond curls. 

“Isn’t this better my dear.”

Katniss watches her curiously. “I didn’t know you were blonde.” 

“Very plain I know, but--”

“It’s beautiful.” Katniss whispers. “You should wear your hair like that more often.” 

Effie blushes harder. “You are too kind. That is one of the things I like most about you. It’s one of the reasons that I have stayed with District 12 as long as I have.” She takes Katniss’ hands. “What did he threaten you with?”

Katniss looks at her as if seeing her for the first time. It is such an intense stare that Effie almost looks away. “Appointments for Vick and a permanent residence in the Capitol for Finnick.”

Effie bites her lip and she can taste the mineral base of her makeup. Appointments was one of the worst of the Capitol’s dark deeds. Long ago, before she had become an escort she knew about them, everyone did, but she had thought they were consensual and enjoyed by both parties. It wasn’t until she met Katniss that she began to understand how wrong she had been. Working as an escort had opened her eyes to a lot of things, most of which she didn’t like. 

And she wasn’t the only one. There was a growing population in the Capitol that hated the Games. Many of them were like Cinna, somehow associated with the Games. That was how she had found him. He had been introduced to her at a party a few months before the Reaping. He had shown her some of his ideas for District 12, but Effie had balked at the idea, knowing her small, sad children would be swallowed up by the brilliance of his designs. It wasn’t until Katniss had volunteered for her sister that she had hope. She had called him from the Justice Building in District 12 and he had been waiting for them in the Capitol with a conspiratorial smile on his face. 

It had done nothing but make Katniss Everdeen more desirable and Cinna had retired with a heavy guilt that Effie shared. Over the years the Girl on Fire had slowly been extinguished - and then Finnick came and Vick got reaped and Effie saw her bright, brilliant tribute again. 

“Don’t worry Katniss, we won’t let Snow take them.” Effie is determined to protect Vick. She had failed Katniss in so many ways, but she wouldn’t this time. 

“Why do you keep helping us?” Katniss asks, her voice more confused than anything. 

Effie pulls at the small gold chain that always stays around her neck these days. “Because we are a team.” She hands the necklace to Katniss with a smile. Effie had it made after Katniss’ games. It was a golden mockingjay, just like the pin she had worn in the games. It had recently been amended to include three purple beads. 

“Effie...” Katniss breathes out, fingering the small bird. 

“You and Vick have more support than you think.” She takes the necklace back and returns it to it’s place under her shirt. “And not just here in the Capitol, but all across the districts. I know you are scared. We all are,” She puts her hand over her heart where the mockingjay pendant rests, “But isn’t this worth it?”

Katniss stares at Effie’s hand for a moment and then her own, one still in a splint and the other with healing scabs. She lets out a breath and when she looks up there is a fire in her eyes again.

“Alright Effie. Just promise me that this won’t blow back on Finnick and Vick.”

Effie nods with a smile. “I can, but only until the Quarter Quell. After that, everything is out of my hands.”

Katniss frowns. “Why?”

Effie goes and collects her wig. “I think that you and Haymitch need to have a long talk when you get back home. And please, try not to be too mad.”

*******************

Katniss doesn't know if the note she leaves for Finnick will be received, but she needs him to know that she was ready to fight. She is going to fight for him and Vick and her District. She is going to fight for a future, one where she wasn’t owned by Snow.

How could she refuse when even _Effie Trinket_ was ready for battle?

*******************

Her family hadn’t been told she was coming home, so Katniss wasn’t ready for the tears, but she should have been because they missed her. They had missed her so damn much.

*******************

Even after all these years, Katniss thinks there is something satisfying about throwing a bucket of water on Haymitch’s head. He wakes up sputtering, waving his knife that he keeps under his pillow. She stands just outside of his reach with crossed arms and a scowl to rival his.

“You would think that I would have earned some respect by now.” He growls.

Katniss doesn’t flinch. “Would you have preferred to I used my cast?” She holds up her hand and waves the hard, itchy contraption at him.

Whether it’s her tone or something else, Haymitch sobers up immediately. “What’s pissed you off today sweetheart?” 

“You and I need to talk.”

“About what?”

Pulling out the golden mockingjay pin from her pocket, Katniss throws it to him and he catches it awkwardly it with both eyebrows raised. 

“Haven’t seen this in a while. Why would--”

Katniss crosses her arms and glares at the older man. “Don’t lie to me Haymitch. Not about this.” 

Somewhere beneath her anger Katniss understands why he doesn’t want to tell her. The more people that know plans, the more likely that those plans will accidentally be leaked to the wrong people. She, however, had to know. She was in this too deep and the less she knew, the more likely she was to get someone else killed. 

Grey eyes stared into grey eyes. Each were unyielding in their determination, but perhaps that is what Haymitch had been looking for.

“Alright sweetheart. Go down to the bakery and get us some lunch. When you get back we’ll talk.”

*******************

Katniss slumps into her bed, more tired than she had been in a long time. Muscles hurt that she had forgotten she had. A part of her wanted to blame it on her recent injuries, but she knew better. Her shoulders and arms hurt because this was the first time she had picked up a bow in the last ten years.

Earlier that night she had snuck out to the woods to practice. The bow was exactly where it had always been, wrapped in weatherproof plastic and shoved into the hollow of a tree. Picking it up had been hard, memories of her Games and Gale running through her head, but the second she had started firing she hadn’t wanted to stop. The comforting rhythm of draw, aim and release had been more necessary than she had realized. True, she was rusty and her aim was atrocious, but that had come back fairly quickly. Sadly, the same couldn't’ be said for her stamina or her hands. 

She turns her hands over, looking at the damage. The palm of her left hand was puffy with blisters while the first three fingers on her right hand, while already scabbing, were red and irritated where the bow string had ripped the skin. 

“You’re back.” 

Katniss jumps, startled. It was late and the house was supposed to be asleep. Turning, she sees her mother standing standing in the doorway clutching a light sweater around her shoulders. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Katniss says, sitting up. She cringes as her arms threaten to collapse under her weight. They shake with an exhaustion that frustrates her. Guilt and shame wash over her. In her fear she had thrown away the very thing that bound her so tightly to both her father and Gale. It’s as if they both were watching her from the beyond with sad, depressed eyes. 

Her mother sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for Katniss’ hands, assessing her newest injuries with a curious tilt to her head.

“You were shooting.” She says.

Katniss nods. It had been two months since the Hob burned down and she had been hospitalized. Her cast had finally been removed yesterday. The weakness in her hands and the thinness of her frame had sent her into the wood tonight. If she wanted to survive the Games then she needed to regain everything she had let slip over the last ten years. 

“Are you upset?” She asks. Her mother looks up at her with her wide blue eyes, the same eyes that Prim has. There is a distance there, just like there has been since the death of her father. Katniss knows that the uncertainty she sees is mostly her fault and even when they both try, it is like the words to breach this chasm will never be found. 

“No.” Her mother reaches up and tucks a stray lock behind Katniss’ ear. “I’m proud. Both you and Prim are fighters. That’s something that you got from your father.” Her words trail off and she looks away ashamed. The bitter part of Katniss thinks that it’s good that her mother still feels that way because she should - she left her children to starve - but another, smaller part feels the same shame. Yes her mother broke, but Katniss is the one who let her stay that way all these years. 

For a second there is an awkward moment between the two women before her mother silently gets up and leaves. Katniss is left there, watching her mother leave and thinks that is the end of it, but a few minutes later she returns with a small bundle. Placing it on Katniss lap and sit back on the edge of the bed with an air of nervous anticipation. 

Undoing the small tie on the cloth bundle, Katniss is surprised at what she finds. Her hunting boots, game bag, knife, finger gloves, and her father’s leather jacket. After her last failed trip into the woods she hadn’t even had the will to look at her gear. She hadn’t seen any of them in years, but as her fingers ran over the worn leather it felt like a part of her was returning. 

She looked up at her mother who was watching her with a soft smile. “You kept them?”

“I had always hoped you would want them again one day. You always looked so happy when you came home from the woods, even when it became a chore. Hunting and the woods are a part of you, no matter how far the Capitol tried to bury it.”

Katniss runs her fingers over the leather, still supple. It was clear her mother had taken good care of them, moisturizing the leather and working it over the years so it was ready for her when she needed it again.

“You were so sure that I would come back to this.” 

Her mother nods, reaching over again to take Katniss’ hands. She pulls out a small pot of something medicinal from the pocket of her cardigan. It smells strongly of mint when she opens the lid and applies it to Katniss’ blisters. 

“Why?” The words slip past the lump in Katniss throat. Her mother never showed this level of dedication and care for her. The demonstration of quiet affection was something that she had seen her and Prim share, but it was so foreign that Katniss was unsure what to do with it.

“Because they are his and so are you. From the moment you were born you always were more John’s child than mine. You inherited everything from his headstrong nature to his coloring. Now you’ve inherited his war.” 

“What?”

Her mother stops putting the cream on Katniss’ wounds and reaches over and puts her hands on the jacket. “Your father hated the Capitol. He was part of the rebellions before you were born. Thankfully we were already seeing each other at the time. Your father had decided to skip a meeting in the mines to come see me. It was the night Peacekeepers caught the rebels. The small group was executed the next day in the square.”

Katniss looks down at the jacket. “I never knew.” 

“Why do you think he only sang some songs in the woods? Songs like The Hanging Man were the words of the rebels. He never stopped fighting, and somehow I knew you wouldn’t either.”

Katniss looks back up at her mother’s sad smile. “What if I’m not ready?”

“You have one month to change that.”

Her mother was right. There was just over a month left before the Reaping, and she had to be ready for it. There was too much riding on these Games. Earlier, on their now daily afternoon walks, she and Haymitch had been talking about the state of the rebellion and it hadn’t been promising. Mayor Undersee had granted them access to his restricted Capitol feed the day before - more accurately, Haymitch had gotten to see what was going on while Katniss and Madge played the piano and talked a little too loudly. 

Apparently District Eight was making another push to overthrow the Peacekeepers. So far it wasn’t going to well. District ten was completely back under Capitol control and had been for two weeks. District Seven was the last hold out, but since no one else was in open rebellion, it had Snow’s full attention and wouldn’t last much longer. 

The failure in those three districts was costing the rebellion support in the rest of Panem. They were on the verge of losing it all before it got started. They just had to hold on until the Quell, but it was looking more like that wouldn’t happen.

“And what if I’m not the only one.” Katniss asks. She knew she could make herself ready. Her body would be fit and strong even if she had to spend every minute of the next four weeks in the woods, but none of this was going to be of any use if the rest of the Panem didn’t stand with her. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” Her mother says standing. She leans forward and presses a kiss onto Katniss’ forehead. It was a display of motherly affection and Katniss found herself longing for more.

She pulls back just enough for her words to ghost over Katniss’ skin. “They just needed a spark, sweetheart. No one is going to go back now. Not if you keep fanning the flames.” 

Katniss watches her mother leave. Their conversation had been dangerous, talk of rebellions in a house where she knew there were bugs, but she had needed to hear those words from someone besides Haymitch. Somehow, hearing them come from her mother - a woman that she would never had classified as a fighter - made her hope.

The sun was coming up and Katniss needed sleep. Tonight she would go back into the woods. She had to. War was coming and in one month she was going to make sure that everyone in Panem knew it.


	9. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Finally, we have arrived at the Hunger Games - er, sort of. I originally wanted to have everything in one chapter, but this was getting so so fast that I couldn't do it. So here's all parts of the Games, except the actual Games. D'oh. They are coming in part 6 and just to excite you, here's a small spoiler: I'm saving at least two victors from the Capitol's devices that weren't in the books. Bam. Chew on that one! Anyways, as usual, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I made sure there was sufficient fluff between our lovers since they've had it rough recently. Thanks to everyone who's followed/favorited/reviewed. Each one means the world to me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and the world belong to Suzanne Collins

"It's official. Every district's reaping is going to be broadcasted live tomorrow."

Finnick stares at the two sitting at the table across from him. Hayden Colwell and Jennie O'Reilly were the heads of the District Four rebellion. They had been the two to evaluate him in the dark all those months ago and since then Finnick had learned exactly why those two held so much power.

Hayden was a short, stocky man with graying hair but a mind sharper than any sword. He had lost his hand as punishment for withholding part of his catch when he was younger but it hadn't stopped him, it had just made him smarter about how he stole. Since he couldn't fish with one hand he turned into a merchant - one that sold goods that weren't exactly legal. If you needed something in District Four Hayden was the man to talk to. Right now that meant weapons and Hayden had a huge stockpile of them.

If Hayden was the brains of the rebellion then Jennie was the brawn. As the eldest O'Reilly girl, she had taken it upon herself to become the protector of her five younger sisters. The sway of her hips lured lecherous men in and her fists put them down. Everyone in the fisheries knew not to cross any of the O'Reilly girls or else they would have to answer to Jennie. She had her own following and brought every single one of them with her. They were the muscle of the rebellion and their numbers were growing by the day.

"So," Jennie says with a huff, "That means that all the efforts of the other districts have failed. We really are going to be on our own."

"No, we aren't." Finnick leans across the table with a smirk.

Hayden frowns. "What do you mean?"

"We've been trying to get information to the other districts, but it's been failing on all fronts. Snow has restricted movement to and from the Capitol to try to keep the districts separate, but he didn't count on people in the Capitol helping."

Jennie scowls, tossing her midnight black hair over her shoulder. "Still not understanding."

"On my last visit, I met someone. A very powerful Capitolite. Apparently, they've been trying to get a message to us."

Hayden strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Oh really? What kind of message?"

"The kind that gives us the go ahead to fight," Finnick says, his face brightening. "Districts Seven, Eight and Ten failed because they moved by themselves. They were outmanned and outgunned." He taps the table, his finger emphasizing his every word. "Not this time. This time, they are going to fight together and we are going to join them."

"Pretty words." Jennie sneers. "But how do you expect us to work together if we can't even talk to each other?"

"We don't have to. All we have to do is wait for the signal."

"Which is?"

Finnick's smile widens. "The Quarter Quell. Think about it. Everyone's going to be watching since it's mandatory so everyone is going to see the signal at the same time. No communication necessary."

Hayden smiles, mirroring Finnick's. "Snow won't be expecting it either. With the defeat in Seven, he thinks he's won."

Jennie nods, her lips twitching up as well. "And with everyone already in the square by the Justice Building, we'd already be in position to take the Peacekeeper stronghold quickly. They'd never know what hit them. I like it." She gets up and starts pacing, her dark eyes bright with excitement. "When we are supposed to be beaten down, we will rise up. Snow's moment of victory will become his defeat. That is fucking poetic, that is."

"That just leaves the question. What is the signal and when will it be?"

Two pairs of eyes turn to Finnick and he shrugs. "That I don't know, but I think it's not going to be until the Games have started."

"And why is that?" Hayden asks.

"Because," Finnick says with a sigh, "The man I met with was Plutarch Heavensbee, the Head Gamemaker."

Hayden and Jennie share a look, one that says Finnick might have just lost his mind. "And you trust him?"

"I trust that he's in it for his own gain, not ours. That's about as good as it gets in the Capitol, but I know he has the support of District 12 and that's enough for me."

"And you're sure of that?" Hayden presses.

Finnick thinks back to his final appointment two days ago. It had been an extravagant party at Lucius Soren's estate, a farewell to him in case the unthinkable happened. Everyone had been tearful, some even refusing to let him return home to his district. He had played off their grief, trying to gain support to stop the games when Plutarch Heavensbee pulled him aside. Like the others, he has dressed in District Four colors except for his tie bar with three purple gems. It matched his golden watch that flickered a mockingjay insignia when touched.

They had talked quietly about the Games, nothing that was outwardly rebellious but Finnick knew how to read between the lines. It was a talent that Katniss had carefully cultivated in him following the Games He wouldn't have believed everything he was being told, even with Katniss' famous mockingjay and Vick's berries, if Plutarch hadn't given him a message - one that could have only come from Katniss.

_"And if you come out of the games alive, what do you plan to do then?" Plutarch asks._

_Finnick shrugs. "No idea. That's the beauty of the unknown."_

_"Well," Plutarch says, putting a hand on Finnick's shoulder, "If I were you, I would find myself a small cabin by the sea. I think that sounds like a wonderful future - something worth fighting for."_

Even without meaning to, his hand had gone to his breast pocket where he kept Katniss crumpled letter. Those words had validated everything Plutarch had said and put a spring in Finnick's step the rest of the evening. He hadn't heard anything from District 12 in the last three months but it had confirmed everything he had hoped: Katniss was fine and she was a part of the rebellion in 12.

"Yes, I am." Finnick runs his fingers over the small knotted bracelet on his wrist. This rebellion was happening and soon it was going to be him and Katniss and their home by the sea.

*******************

As expected, Vick Hawthorne and Katniss Everdeen were the tributes from District 12 and soon after Finnick Odair and Mags Flannagan were chosen from District Four. Finnick had been reaped, but Mags had volunteered. Her family had been a crying mess, coming to see both himself and Mags off. Little Marie had been the worse, clinging to his leg and refusing to let go.

Annie had come by, her face red and her eyes still leaking hot tears. She hadn't stopped crying since her name had been drawn, but she was collected enough to understand where she was and exactly what was going on.

"You're going to have to be strong," Finnick says as he takes her in his arms. "Haymitch from District 12 will be there to help you through the mentoring process. Lean on him as much as you need to."

Finnick hadn't exactly been able to discuss this with the man, but he knew that Haymitch would help her. Finnick and Mags had talked through their strategy and both had decided that they were going to make sure that one of the District 12 tributes made it out. Katniss didn't realize it, but her unwavering support and dedication to Vick had endeared her in the eyes of the rebels. It echoed her games where she fought so hard to save the life of Rue, a small 12-year-old from District 11. Even if they couldn't save the boy who had sparked what Finnick was sure to be a war, then Katniss would be the next best thing. As long as one of them made it then this rebellion would continue, and if Finnick couldn't have a future with Katniss than he at least wanted a better one for the rest of Panem.

"You have to come back Finnick," Annie says, burying her face into his chest. "You have a reason to, remember."

He glances down at his wrist and the sea green cord wrapped around it. He had started working different knots into it, and some of it was still a strange mash of various ideas, but it had kept his mind off the distance between him and Katniss and his heart filled with determination.

"Don't worry Annie," He whispers as he presses a kiss into her hair. "I remember."

*******************

Finnick was distracted, paying little attention to his prep team and stylist. Frankly, he was just hoping that they would hurry up so that he could get to the Tribute Parade. He had been swept away the second that he had arrived and hadn't had a chance to see Katniss. All he had seen of her in the last two months was the small clip from the District 12 reaping and she looked healthy, none of her past trauma evident. It had been like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders but he knew it wouldn't be completely gone until she was in his arms.

"Done." His stylist said and Finnick glanced down at himself for the first time and almost openly groaned. He was wearing a net, strategically placed to cover the most important parts and only the most important parts.

"What do you think?"

"Well," Finnick said, moving around to see if the precariously placed net was going to fall off. "It is certainly eye-catching."

"We had to have something dramatic since Cinna is back." The man grumbled, reaching down to adjust the thankfully secure fabric.

Finnick frowned. "Cinna?"

"The District 12 stylist that set Katniss Everdeen on fire. Apparently, the second the Quarter Quell was announced he marched up to Plutarch Heavensbee and demanded to be her stylist. Everyone has been trying for months to figure out what he has planned, but he's being so secretive." The stylist sighed. "What I wouldn't give to get my hands on his sketch book."

Finnick smirked. Now he _really_ couldn't wait to see Katniss.

*******************

He waves off his stylist as soon as he can, swatting away the man's final adjustments of the net. The horses, chariots, and elaborately clothed bodies block his view and he stretches over them trying to catch a glimpse of the tributes from District 12.

Cursing softly he starts to make his way to the back of the line of chariots when a voice stops him.

"Want a sugar cube?"

Finnick spins, a witty retort on his lips when his jaw drops open. Katniss Everdeen is wearing nothing but a fine black powder from the neck down. Her hair is pulled up and back into elaborate braids and her eyes are dark and piercing. She twirls the small sugar cube in her fingers and walks towards him with slow deliberate steps.

He is paralyzed at her approach, caught in her deadly gaze and she smiles slowly. She knows exactly what she is doing to him. Once close enough he reaches out to her, determined to kiss her until her knees are as weak as his but she takes a step back.

"No touching Odair. It took them three hours to paint me and I refuse to let Cinna's hard work go to waste."

This time, he really does groan, silently cursing the world and Katniss' stylist in equal measure. "You've got to be kidding me." He mutters, running a hand over his face.

"Sorry." She says, her smile turning apologetic and holds a hand out to him, thankfully free of the black dust from the wrist down. He reaches for it, intertwining his fingers with hers effortlessly.

"At least I get something sweet." He says, lifting her free hand to his lips and plucking the small sugar cube from her fingers.

"Why do you think I brought it? I had to pacify you somehow."

"You really think that I would be satisfied with a bite of sugar when there is something infinitely more delicious in front of me?" He places a kiss on her palm with a sigh. "Not that I am complaining, but I can't believe that you let Cinna paint you in coal dust. You do realize that you are going to be parading around practically naked in front of all of Panem." Finnick frowns then, realizing for the first time exactly where she was going to be in her current "outfit". "No, actually I am complaining."

Katniss snorts. "Says the man wearing the net. Besides, I am wearing a whole lot more than you." She gestures to her chest and he realizes for the first time that there was something there under the thick layer of dust - the barest outline of an actually very modest crop top and shorts.

The knowledge makes him feel better, but only a little. "Alright, I concede defeat. You are not naked, but hopefully, that will change later on. I don't think I can handle this touching prohibition all night."

"Don't worry," Katniss says, trailing her hand down his chest. The only ornamentation she's wearing, a silver finger cap on her middle finger and thumb are surprisingly rough and make him shiver. "I needed help putting it on, so I'll need help washing it off. Think you'll be up for the job?"

"Oh yes," Finnick smiles, all dopey dimples at the mere thought of the steamy shower to come. "And since my outfit is so easy to get off, I'll get to focus all my attention on you."

Her eyes are as dark as her skin, heavy with want but before she can reply her name is called from behind them. Spinning Finnick spies Vick, dressed exactly like her though he is not nearly as confident as she is.

"The Parade's about to start," Vick says and she nods, turning back to Finnick.

"Time to put on a show," Finnick says.

Katniss' expression darkens. "I hope they enjoy it because it's the last one that they are ever going to get."

*******************

His name is on every woman's lips as his chariot rolls on to the Colonnade. Roses and other flowers fall at his feet as his eyes flicker over the rows upon rows of people. Finnick knows that he should be playing the crowd more but his eyes keep darting over to the large screens. Most of the cameras are focused on him, cutting to other chariots as they enter but they all inevitably return.

That is until the final chariot appears.

He hears the change in the crowd immediately as they grow silent for a moment. Katniss and Vick's outfits look dull next to the other brightly colored, gaudy atrocities that everyone else is wearing. Katniss waves to the crowd eliciting some cheers for her and catches a rose that is tossed her way. The camera moves on, but returns immediately, just in time for him to see the rose explode into a ball of flame as she holds it to her chest. The flames move from the flower to her skin and across her body, traveling along the black dust and transfer to Vick when she raises their clasped hands - united and strong.

Unlike the fire from her Games, this doesn't last - consuming the coal dust in a fiery line that progresses across her skin and leaves pale ash in its wake. Piece by piece the gray remains of her outfit falls away, pulled off by the airstream and flutter to the ground in the wake of her chariot. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, her olive skin appears through a haze of smoke. The cloud is heavy and unnatural, billowing from her chest and hips. It falls around her as elegant as an evening gown and as powerful as general's armor. She is a phoenix rising from the ashes and the crowd is in awe. They cheer, shout, and blow kisses her way but Katniss doesn't look at them anymore. Her eyes are distant and determined. She looks dangerous, elegant, and powerful and Finnick knows that her gaze is set on one person.

If he was president Snow he would be scared, because Katniss Everdeen was going to take this game of his and bring it down around him.

*******************

Finnick finds Katniss along with Vick and Haymitch waiting by the elevators chatting with Johanna Mason. He doesn't even bother greeting any of them and as the door opens he drags Katniss into the vacant compartment, shutting it immediately.

"That was rude." She says, but admonishment is more amused than anything else.

"I don't care."

He reaches for her, his lips meeting hers in a passionate embrace before his hands follow. They slide around her back and pull her flush with him before he realizes that something is off.

Pulling back sharply he looks down and sees the sheen of something still on her skin. It is sticky and strings of it linger as he pushes back from her. In the small space, he recognizes the pungent smell of smoke and something like burnt plastic.

"What _is_ this?"

"Something to protect me from the flames. I warned you not to touch me."

He touches his chest where a good portion was transferred from her to him. "Is it going to wash off?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't care." Finnick feels his hands glue to her waist as he pulls her back towards him. "In fact, I kind of like it."

"Really?" Katniss drawls, her eyebrow raised defiantly. "And why is that?"

"Because," He says, his voice filled with amusement. "Now you really are stuck with me."

*******************

The shower is infinitely less sexy than Finnick had originally hoped. The soap that Cinna supplied to remove the flame retardant from Katniss' skin is a life saver but smells worse than the stuff itself. It still takes three coats of it before they deem themselves goo-free and a few more washes with soap to remove the lingering odor. By the end, the two are just glad to be clean.

Finnick falls onto Katniss bed, more than slightly annoyed. "When I saw you walking towards me with that sugar cube I thought this night would go very differently."

She towel dries her hair that thankfully doesn't smell like chemicals anymore and shoots him a smile. "And how did you think it would go?"

"Some playful banter, maybe a joke or two about my net, and then sex. Lots and lots of sex."

A wet towel hits him in the face followed closely by weight of a body on his abdomen, forcing the air from his lungs. He pulls the cloth from his face to see Katniss sitting astride him in her sleep shirt.

"Pervert."

His hands ride up her bare thighs, enjoying the feel of her warm skin. "Don't try to turn this around. You are the one who jumped me."

"Are you complaining?" She whispers, leaning down just enough for the tips of her wet hair to leave cool trails on his chest. The scent of her shampoo is strong as the dark locks form a cocoon around them, blocking out the light of the room.

"Definitely not." He squeezes her butt - firmer than he remembers - forcing her forward, close enough for his lips to reach. "I'm just trying to get the night back on track."

Katniss hums happily as he peppers her neck with kisses. "Does that mean I'm supposed to make a net joke now?" She reaches down and plays with the edge of the towel. She finds the loose knot on the edge and gives it a firm tug. Finnick feels the tension in fabric give way. "Somehow I think it would be pointless now."

Finnick rolls them, taking Katniss with him and leaving the towel behind. "Completely." His hands move up under her shirt and he groans when he realizes she isn't wearing a bra. "Please tell me we can move on to the sex now."

Katniss rolls her hips and laughs as his head falls onto her shoulder with a muffled curse. "We could if you stopped talking."

"Right." He mumbles into her skin. "No more talking."

Lips and hands trace well-loved paths as Finnick reacquaints himself with Katniss. Her body is mostly, thankfully, unchanged. Damage from her beating has disappeared, leaving only the memory of the dark stains on her skin. He kisses the phantom wounds, reciting the long list in his head as he goes: ribs, clavicle, hand, nose. Each touch of his lips to her skin is a promise to her and himself that he will keep her safe.

What has changed is the shape of her. It's subtle but noticeable. Katniss is still soft and supple, but there is a new underlying strength. She has put on weight and it is all muscle. He can feel them shifting as she arches under him taught as her bow strings. For the first time, Finnick can see the great hunter she once was - athletic, capable and deadly - hiding just beneath her skin.

Shirts and underwear are quickly discarded, tossed somewhere in the vicinity his long lost towel. It's easy for him to lose track of everything else when Katniss curls around him. Her calloused hands knead his shoulders and her legs ensnare him so that every inch of their bodies are pressed together.

"I am never letting you go." She whispers, breath teasing the shell of his ear. Finnick wants to respond, tell her that he feels the same, beg her to stay with him until the end of time but she steals his words with hot, open mouthed kisses.

He loses himself in her body, burying himself deeper and deeper into her until there is nothing left but Katniss overloading his senses. He can taste her racing heartbeat under his tongue, feel the slick heat of her skin as she glides against him, hear her ragged breaths as she gasps and moans. She still smells faintly of smoke and soap but it is now mixed with the heady scent of sex and sweat. It clings to both of them and Finnick faintly hopes that everyone will notice and will know exactly what they do. He wants them to know that she is his and he is hers and that even the Games can't come between that.

Rising pleasure casts out all his fears. Katniss is stable and strong, and together they will survive this. He feels the knots of the bracelet cutting into his skin as he holds her tighter. It is still just a dream but he can feel it manifest into reality as they move. No matter what comes, a future with Katniss is only one he accepts. Anything else is unthinkable.

Spent, Finnick pulls Katniss close. Her gray eyes are knowing as she looks up at him.

"We're going to make it." She whispers and he smiles. A lie perhaps, but one he will repeat until it's truth.

"We're going to make it." He repeats, drifting off into his first happy slumber in months.

*******************

It's late, or perhaps early, when Finnick feels Katniss shifting next to him. The invading cool air is immediately annoying as she lifts the blanket. He recoils from the intrusion and pulls her back into his embrace.

"You shouldn't be up yet." He grumbles and buries his face into her hair. Her soft chuckle reverberates through his chest pulling a happy hum from his lips. Finnick likes having her this close, especially after the complete deprivation over the last few months.

Katniss turns in his arms and plants a small kiss on his lips. "You could just let me get up."

"Nope. That's not happening."

"Well, I'm not staying in bed." Her hand travels down around his back, lighting tracing his shoulders. "And you can't make me."

"Can't I-OW!" He winces as she pinches him. His shoulder blades instinctively pull back and Katniss slips out from his grasp. Finnick watches as she puts on pants and his cream sweater from last year.

"What is so important that you have to be out of bed at," He glances at the clock, "5:30 in the morning."

"The sunrise."

Finnick throws an arm over his eyes. "Do you think the Capitol could make it rise a few hours later when reasonable people wake up?"

He feels the bed shift as Katniss sits down next to him. "You can either be lazy, just like everyone else here or you can come to the roof with me." Her hands brush his chest, traveling up his neck to cup his jaw. "Go for the second option. I promise it will be worth your while."

Her words are meant to be provocative, but there is a shining intensity in her eyes that makes Finnick think otherwise. She must have seen the budding curiosity on his face because she leans forward to press a quick kiss to his lip before he can form his question.

"The roof. Now." She whispers.

"Fine." He says, moving quicker than he thought he ever could at this hour of the morning. Finnick throws the covers off him and searches for something that might fit him besides the net. He didn't really want to put that back on but he also didn't want to go back down to his rooms more clothes.

"Here." Katniss opens one of the drawers and to Finnick's surprise, it is filled with men's clothes.

"Effie asked Cinna to make sure you had something to wear." She explains.

He smiles as he looks through the clothes. "Cinna has good tastes." Everything in the drawer is comfortable clothes with conservative cuts - not a suit or tie in sight. They look like something he would choose to wear back home. He pulls out the first two things he sees, not really caring if they match because they aren't bright and glittering, and frankly that is all that matters.

Finnick starts to dress but pauses with the shirt half over his head. "Think he'll dress me in the coal dust next time? Or better yet, sea salt? It's easier to clean off since you can do it with your tongue."

He wiggles his eyebrows at her but Katniss just rolls her eyes and leaves for the elevator, forcing Finnick to run to catch up even though he only has one leg in his pants.

"So, want to tell me why you have been getting up so early?" He asks as the elevator door closes.

"What makes you think I have been?"

"Katniss." He deadpans, "We've been sleeping together for years and half the time I can't get you up in the morning. After last night you should be sleeping like the dead, not acting bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

She shrugs. "I haven't been sleeping at night."

This makes Finnick frown. "Nightmares."

"Not exactly." He waits for her to continue, but he knows from the flick of her eyes and the way she stares at him intently that she won't say anymore - not because she doesn't want to, but because it's not _safe_ to.

The elevator door opens and he can feel the crisp morning air whipping around him. Finnick eyes Katniss' sweater enviously. The gray sky was still fairly dark, indicating that sunrise was still a ways off meaning he was going to stand here and freeze for longer than he wanted. Even though it was summer, the Capitol's elevation caused the temperature to drop every night.

"Come here," Katniss says, perching on the ledge and opening her arms for him. He accepts the offer readily and goes into her instantly.

"That's better." He feels her hum in reply. "It would be better if you told me why we're up here. And don't tell me it's just to watch the sunrise."

Katniss smirks. "Caught me. Haymitch will be up here soon. Hopefully."

"Haymitch? The man that is never up before noon? That Haymitch?"

"Who says I went to bed?" Finnick jumps in Katniss' arms at the man's voice. They hadn't heard the elevator door open over the wind. The poor acoustics were one of the reasons that the roof had never been bugged, making it the only safe place to talk inside the Tribute Center.

Haymitch nurses a steaming beverage, glaring slightly at Katniss over the edge of the up. The irritated look on his face is only intensified by the circles under his eyes and his rumpled suit.

"I thought we agreed to wait on telling people until after the training sessions started."

"You decided. I didn't agree." Katniss snaps.

Haymitch sighs as he sits on the small bench in the rooftop garden. "The more people who know everything the more danger to us. You know this."

"We are asking people to put their lives on the line. They deserve to know exactly why they are doing it."

"And you'd be surprised how ready they are to fight. People like Johanna won't need a reason, just point her in the direction of Snow and wait for the blood to start flowing."

Katniss opens her mouth to argue some more with Haymitch but Finnick stops them both. "I'm not really appreciating being talked about like I'm not here. Would one of you like to tell me what's going on?"

Haymitch takes another sip of his drink and stares at Katniss. "You wanted to bring him in sweetheart."

Katniss sighs and pulls away from Finnick. "I-" She hesitates over the words.

"Is this about the rebellion?" Finnick cuts in. Katniss nods. "Did you mean what you said in your note, about the future?" _You and me and a cabin by the sea._ She nods again. "Then whatever it is, I'm in. I met Heavensbee. I know something is going to go down during the Games. Just tell me what you need me to do."

"Protect Vick." Katniss whispers. "We have a plan to bring down the arena. You just have to keep Vick alive until then."

*******************

The plan was more complicated than Katniss had initially let on but Haymitch refuses to give him more than just the barest of details, saying that it was to protect him in case things went South. Apparently, he already knew more than Vick but much less than Katniss. He had tried to pry more information out of her but she had promised Haymitch not to spill any other secrets.

Before the Games started, it was going to be up to Katniss and him to figure out who else to include in their alliance. Once picked, they were to report back to Haymitch who, as a mentor, was able to get written messages back and forth between the tributes.

So far the only ones that Finnick and Katniss had agreed on were Mags and Johanna. Today, during training they were going to talk to tributes while doing their best not to appear like they were in a group together. Distancing themselves in the eyes of the Gamemakers was important to keep Snow from thinking there might be something more to their alliances than survival.

He arrives at training with Mags just in time to hear Atala start her spiel about training even though only half the tributes are present. Just like every year, there are stations for both combat and survival skills. It had been years since he had practice in either so Finnick knows everything will be important to hit.

All the Careers are by the combat stations, Brutus and Enobaria chucking spears and the siblings from District 1, Cashmere and Gloss, are eyeing up the swords. He almost goes over to join them, perhaps try out his hand at archery just to lure Katniss into giving him a lesson after she finishes laughing at him when he spies Johanna over by the hand-to-hand combat station - stripping.

Finnick shakes his head as he approaches her. "Are you that worried they won't even give us clothes in the arena this year?"

Johanna smirks over her shoulder as she starts oiling herself up. "Snow knows better than to give me a weapon. Won't matter though." She catches Gloss watching her and she gives him a predatory smile. "Not when I've killed all his little watch dogs." She turns Finnick with her hands on her hips. The oil makes her skin glisten in the artificial lights and only years of practice keep Finnick's gaze from darting down. "What about you Fish Brains. Are you going join the pack this year?"

Finnick shakes his head. "You know me, Johanna, I've never been much for tradition. I thought I might shake things up this year. Snow changed the rules, so why can't I?"

Her eyes narrow on him momentarily before she falls into an easy smile. "I never took you for a troublemaker, your girlfriend on the other hand." Johanna looks behind him and he turns to see Katniss trying to teach Vick how to make a fire without matches. He's struggling horribly but her teaching has attracted others including the pair from District Three, Wiress, and Beetee. "She's all kinds of trouble."

"The best kind." Finnick murmurs, watching her hands work the flint with ease.

Johanna rolls her eyes. "Strip and oil up or let me get back to my fun. I want to see how long it takes before Cashmere comes over and tries to rip my head off."

"Try not to die before the Games start." Finnick jokes as he walks away. "I'd miss having your sparkling personality to entertain me as we dodge death."

"Don't worry," She calls to him. "You're going to get plenty of it in the Games."

Mags is already waiting for him at the archery station with an eyebrow raised in question. "She's in, I think." Mags nods and hands him a bow with a smile. Finnick groans. "Do you really want to watch me fail?"

"It will be good for you." She quips and reaches up to pat him on the head.

"The Careers really won't want me after this." He mumbles.

It's hard, making his shoulders burn with the effort but he improves with every shot. It's immensely satisfying watching his arrows land closer and closer to the bullseye. He's almost hit a target dead center when lunch is announced.

Rows upon rows of food-laden carts line the dining area. It is private, no Gamemakers watching them here, and the more serious air of the training room vanishes in an instant. Victors become their social selves immediately, chatting and laughing together as they move from table to table. Vick, being the charismatic character he is, is instantly swarmed. Johanna pokes fun at him, Chaff and Seeder hover around him protectively and even the morphlings from District Six lean over to draw interesting designs in his food.

"He's pretty amazing, isn't he?" Katniss says as she catches up with Finnick by the desserts. With no one watching them but the tributes, they are free to talk. There is no point hiding their relationship here. Everyone here already knows about them or at least suspects.

"He is." Finnick agrees.

"I wish I could say the same about you." Katniss murmurs with a small smirk. "I might have to change my opinion on you after seeing you with that bow."

"I bet I was better with the bow than you'd be with a trident."

Katniss leans in closer to him, her lips curling definitely. "Is that a challenge?"

"Definitely." He presses a quick kiss to her lips. "How did things go this morning?"

Katniss pulls back and leans against the table. "Vick wants Beetee and Wiress."

"Nuts and Volts? Why?"

"They could tell that the Gamemakers had a force field around the viewing area. He was impressed." She nods her head towards Johanna. "What about Johanna?"

"She's in, but I haven't seen Blight."

Katniss pushes off the table. "After lunch make your rounds to Districts Eight and Ten. See if they are in and if you can get an idea of how things are going in their Districts."

"Sure. What are you going to do?"

Katniss eyes the Careers who are currently talking with Chaff and introducing themselves to Vick. "I've got some other things that need to be taken care of."

*******************

It doesn't take long after lunch before Finnick has gathered a small crowd around him at the knots station. Even the trainer is impressed with his skill and lets him show off for a while.

"How do you manage to do that?" Vick asks, holding up a complex knot, trying in vain to untie it. Finnick laughs and takes it back from him, pulling a single section that causes the whole thing to fall apart.

"I hate you." Vick grumbles.

Finnick is about to show him another when he sees Katniss and Enobaria over Vick's shoulder. The two are almost nose to nose, with Enobaria trying to use her height and size as an intimidation tactic. Angry, Katniss pushes past her and grabs a bow and full quiver from the stand and moves into the live combat simulator which the Careers had been at since lunch. He shares a concerned look with Vick before racing over to join the small group that was now gathering outside the glass.

Out of all the stations in the center, it was the only holographic-based one. Finnick usually tells all of his tributes to avoid it since it quickly shows any glaring issue in a tribute's skills. He watches as the projectors twirl around the closed area erratically until they focus onto a single point and create a target for Katniss. In one easy movement, she pulls an arrow from the quiver, notches it and aims at the charging figure of a man. The arrow passes through the chest of the projection and it explodes, signaling a kill. More people appear to watch as Katniss takes out the holograms. Her movements are fluid and precise even as she dodges fake weapons. Not one arrow misses and it never takes her more than one shot to fell her enemy.

Finnick had watched her Games, most of them had, but he didn't remember her being this deadly. She moved with a violent grace and lethal conscious. There was no hesitation, no remorse. This was a statement, a threat to anyone that dared to challenge her in the arena.

The simulation comes to an end and Katniss walks out calmly past the stunned crowd. Even Vick is silent as she puts away her bow and arrow. She turns and looks at Enobaria but Finnick knows that she addressing everyone, including Snow and the Gamemakers.

"If you want to get to Vick, you are going to have to get through me first."

Finnick curses. Katniss has thrown down a gauntlet and he can tell that every single Career picked it up.

*******************

The next two days proceed in a similar fashion: Finnick and Vick making alliances and Katniss making enemies. Finnick finally breaks down and drags Katniss off after her training score is posted.

"Are you trying to become a martyr?" Finnick hisses as he pulls her off the elevator and onto the roof.

She pulls her arms away from him, putting distance between herself and the fuming man. "No."

"Really? Because I am pretty sure you just painted a giant target on your back. You got a score of 12 Katniss. _A 12_. Everyone who isn't with us is going to be after you, including the four careers that you have been antagonizing since you got here."

"That is the plan." She says.

He turns to look at her, shocked and confused and more than slightly hurt. "What happened to getting everyone out alive? You're putting us in more danger since -" He cuts himself off. He was going to say _since we'll all be together_ , but he realizes looking at her stony face that her plan and his plan are vastly different.

"You aren't going to be with us in the arena, are you?"

Katniss can barely look at him as she answers. "No."

Finnick leans back against the wall and slumps down as the full ramifications of her actions the past three days hits him. How could he have been so blind, so stupid? Katniss was making herself a target to move attention away from Vick. She was going to distract the Careers until the arena blew while Finnick and the others guarded him. Since they would only have to worry about what the Gamemakers threw at them, they would be relatively safe while she ran from four trained killers.

He could throttle her for this.

"I hate your plan," Finnick whispers as he pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes.

He feels Katniss sit down next to him. Her shoulder brushes his but she doesn't move to touch him. "I know."

"Who's idea was it?"

"Mine." She says and Finnick hates her in that moment. She was being selfish, callously disregarding his and Vick's desire to keep her safe. It was the reason the two of them went into the Games in the first place and she had gone and made that impossible.

He looks at her and sees the guilt etched across her features. Good.

Finnick stands and walks away, refusing to look back. There were so many things that still needed to be said but wouldn't be. His words are caught behind a wall of anger and misery and hers behind determination and fear.

*******************

There is no need to train for the interviews. After years and years, Capitol appearances Finnick knows how to speak in front of a camera. That means he has a free day, the last one before entering the arena. He wants to spend it with Katniss - maybe a picnic on the roof - but he can't move past his anger.

Instead, he spends the day with Mags and Annie. Most of it is spent in the common room watching old movies that Mags had smuggled in over the years. Finnick lays with his head on Annie's lap trying to focus on the overly dramatic romantic comedy but failing horribly.

Her fingers run through his hair aimlessly, laughing softly with Mags as the two make up stories about the main characters.

"What do you think?" She asks, her voice tinkling with laughter.

Finnick snaps back to the moment. "I'm sorry, what?" He had been replaying the argument with Katniss in his head instead of listening.

Annie sighs and shares a look with Mags. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to."

"Where else would I be?" He says, trying to be aloof but sounding more like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum.

"With Katniss." She says patiently.

Finnick gets up and walks towards the dining room. They have an impressive spread of snacks on the table and he picks a few nuts and tosses them in his mouth. "I'd rather be with you two today."

"What happened?" Mags mumbles.

"Nothing." He snaps.

Mags doesn't say anything but he can feel her glare as he pours himself a glass of water. She keeps it up for a full minute before he feels properly admonished and returns to his seat.

"We had a fight." He grumbles.

"About what?"

"Katniss has decided to face the Games alone. She thinks we'll have a better chance if she isn't with us."

Annie squeaks. "What? Why?"

"Her training score." He mutters. He doesn't want to tell Annie everything since it would only make things worse. He can already see the worry set in and it brings his rage back, fresh and bright.

"She's throwing her life away," He spits out. "She's throwing _us_ away." Unable to hold it in any longer he gets up and starts pacing, not caring that Snow was listening. What could he do at this point anyways? "She told me she wanted a future with me, but that's not going to happen if she dies trying to be a hero!" His fingers play with the knotting cord at his wrist. He hadn't touched it since he had come to the Capitol but now he covers it with his hand as if he could make it and his dreams just disappear.

He hasn't realized that Annie has moved until her hand is on his, pulling it gently off his wrist. He can see the angry, white indentations of the knots in his skin. Annie traces the bumps with a finger, soothing away the hurt.

"Isn't that one of the things that you love about her the most?" She asks softly. "I know that it is one of my favorite things about her."

"It's stupid and impulsive and, and..."

"And so Katniss," Mags adds. She takes his free hand and gives it a squeeze. "You can't ask her to be something she's not."

"She can't fight a war on her own." Finnick whispers, letting his head fall. "I wish she would stop trying."

Her determination to protect her loved ones always had been and always would be her downfall. It consumed her and he could see the desperate tinge it had taken on the closer they got to the Games. She feared that she would break if she lost either Vick or himself, but she didn't understand that the feeling was reciprocated. Finnick couldn't image a world without Katniss in it and he didn't want to try.

Mag's gnarled hand touches his head, patting it like he was a child and not a man. "Have faith. This is just as hard on her."

He looks at Mags, confused. She laughs and pats his cheek. "Do you think it is easy for her to let you and Vick out of her sight? She can do it because she has faith in you, so give her some in return."

*******************

In the dark of his room, Finnick can barely make out the green of the knotting cord on his wrist. Mag's words echoed in his mind. Faith and trust. He thought that he had given those to Katniss unconditionally over the years, but she when she asked for them and he had thrown them back in her face.

He had thought her selfish and in so many ways she is, but he is just as bad. He doesn't want to let her go. If he had his way he would lock her up far away from this war and keep her safe but that wasn't an option.

He had been so terrified by her plan that he hadn't stopped to think about why she had decided to go through with it in the first place. In their meetings with Haymitch and their talks about the rebellions in both District Twelve and District Four, it was clear that she was integral to the plan. Haymitch had listened to her patiently detail everything from training and hadn't once protested which meant that he approved, more than that, he supported her.

Haymitch had faith that Katniss could do it, that she could fight all the careers and survive, and Finnick hadn't. That was going to change right now. Finnick gets up and walks out to the common room to find a pen and paper. He could go up to her room and wake her up and apologize, but he wants to do more. She was showing her love through her actions and so would he.

Tomorrow, in front of all of Panem he would show the world that they were a team and that he would support her, no matter what.

*******************

Victors huddle together in tight groups, chatting about anything and everything. Finnick's eyes scanned over the groups looking for the one person that is conspicuously absent

The hushed whispers and gasps of the prep teams follow Katniss when she finally walks into the room. Her floor length dress is the raw silk, so black that it sucks up all light. It is simple and modest with no frills, bows nor sequins but cut to fit the curves of her athletic figure. The only jewelry she wears is a gold collar that extends from her clavicle to chin, but this isn't the statement of the dress. That is reserved for the plunging back that leaves everything exposed. Most of the victors knew of her scars but only the Capitol's elite had ever seen them.

Her eyes meet Finnick's but she looks away immediately and the dramatic makeup can't hide the guilt lying in their gray depths. He pushes past the gawking Capitolites as Caesar Flickerman's voice rings out over the multitude of screens backstage. The show was starting and being District Four that mean that he had little time.

He reaches out and places a hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Make sure you're watching me." He says. Katniss still looks hesitant but that is wiped away immediately when he smiles at her.

"Finnick." His stylist calls and he is pulled away into the waiting area. Gloss and Cashmere are already on stage, Caesar having decided to interview the pair together and from what Finnick can hear, they have started things off with a bang. The crowd is gutted as they talk about how much they will miss the Capitol and how that it has become closer to them than family.

The District Two tributes are next and they just seem excited to be there, but Beetee gets things back on track by discussing the laws surrounding the Games. He evens goes so far as to question Snow, claiming that if he really wanted to, he could stop the Games.

Then it is Finnick's turn. The crowd's cries become a fevered mix of adoration and despair as he waves to them and even Caesar has a hard time corralling them enough to get in a word edgewise.

"Finnick." He says, "As you can tell, this is a very emotional night."

Finnick smiles, his dimples causing a wave of emotion from the women. "It's the same for all of us Ceaser. It's hard to put into words what the Capitol means to me."

"I think everyone here would like you to try."

The room falls into a patience silence and Finnick can't help but be hit once again at the power that the victors hold. Doesn't Snow realize how much damage he has done to himself by allowing them to be heard?

"I won the Games at such a young age that I feel like I grew up here. My experiences in the Capitol and the people who I met here shaped me into who I am today. I learned so much about the world, and most importantly, about love."

Caesar presses his lips together into a tight smile that holds just the right about of sadness and regret. "And it was our privilege to be your teachers."

"My only regret," Finnick presses. "Is that I couldn't tell..." He trails off biting his lip and looks away from the crowd who is immediately buzzing with curiosity.

"Couldn't what? Is there something you would like to say? Perhaps," Caesar draws out and looks at the audience with a conspiratory smirk, "To a special someone?"

"Could I?"

"Please do."

Finnick looks out at the crowd, specifically, the camera that he knows is trained on his face. This message wasn't for anyone but Katniss and he imagines her face as she watches the screen.

"Would that I could, I would be at your side forever. You are a dream in a nightmare, the moon in a sea of stars, and eternity in a moment. You are a spark and I am the flame and in these Games, I will fight to keep your fire alive. Though we will be separated, my thoughts will be with you always, longing for you touch, your lips, your heart. So give me hope and strength and tell me that you will say yes. Break our chains and marry me."

The room exploded in a cacophony of screams and sighs. Woman clamored and blushed, hoping that they were the object of his desire and men leaned forward eagerly arguing about who his mysterious lover could be. Finnick could already see the betting pools starting. Caesar tries to regain control of the crowd but fails horribly and Peacekeepers have to step in and restrain one woman from trying to climb onto the stage with tears staining her makeup.

Finnick smirks as he takes his place next to the other victors. Gloss shakes his head as Finnick passes and Cashmere laughs softly.

"Smooth Odair." She says, but it is barely heard over the din of the room.

"I try." He says bowing a bit before stopping next to Mags. She reaches out and squeezes his hand and pulls him down to her height.

"She'll say yes." She mumbles into his ear.

"She better." He jokes. "I broke the Capitol for her." He tries to sound confident, but inside he is still nervous. He had been holding on to the hope that Katniss had changed her views on marriage, but he still hadn't had the chance to bring it up with her. This was the first time he had really vocalized it, and having it out there made him realize how fragile the dream really was. Snow could threaten him, beat him, and sell him, but it would only take a single word from Katniss to truly break him.

The rest of the interviews fly by with more and more of the victors encouraging the Games to be called off. The crowd who had settled slightly after Finnick's interviews are a mess of emotions when Katniss emerges. Like Finnick, she is incredibly popular and the significance of her appearance on the stage is enough to send the people into another round of tears. They try to be polite and to hear what their victor has to say, but he can hear the choked sobs as people bury their faces into shoulders and handkerchiefs.

Caesar greets her warmly and Finnick can see the genuine affection reflected in the man's gaze as he looks at her. "Katniss Everdeen. You look stunning as usual. Tell me, do you have any surprises for us tonight?"

Katniss smiles at him and shakes her head. "Just candor."

"Is the mysterious Girl on Fire really going to give up her secrets?"

She nods. "Anything you want Caesar. Tonight I will bear everything."

"Why?"

"I want the people of Panem to see me and remember me not for my makeup and my flames, but for my actions. When they watch me in the Games I want them to see Katniss Everdeen, not the Girl on Fire."

"I think I speak for everyone here when I say that you have already etched yourself in our hearts." He looks out at the crowd with a solemn nod, perhaps expecting a round of applause but they are silent, just taking her in. "I take it," He finally continues, "That you aren't planning on coming back from the Games."

She nods. "The first time I stood up here you asked me about my family and I told you I would do anything for them. That hasn't changed. For the people I love I have fought, I have killed and if I have to, I will die."

"So serious," Caesar says with a rueful smile. "So selfless. So...honest." He reaches out and takes her hand. "And I think that honesty should be returned. Katniss Everdeen, in all my years I have never met anyone like you. I know I am not supposed to but if I could, I would bet on you. I think everyone will agree with me, " - He nods at the crowd - "When I say, I sincerely hope this isn't the last chance I will have to speak with you."

A broken sob breaks the silence but it is quickly shushed as everyone listens eagerly for Katniss' next words. Finnick realizes, that even more than his declaration of marriage, even more than Beetee's entries and Cashmere's sweet reminiscences that Katniss has truly brought to light exactly what these Games mean for the Capitol. They have come to love their victors as a child loves a pet or a favorite plaything, and now they were being taken away from them in the worst possible way.

Katniss squeezes Caesar's hands and leans forward to plant a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Think fondly of me." She turns to the crowd. "Tomorrow our hearts will burn together and no matter what happens, we will rise from the ashes changed."

"There's my Girl on Fire." Caesar laughs. "Katniss Everdeen everyone!"

The applause is thunderous as she takes her final bow but when she turns, they stutter to a sudden halt. For the first time, the whole of Panem sees her back, gnarled and scarred. Outraged gasps punctuate the air as people turn away from the sight like they have been physically hit. Finnick is sure that none of them have ever seen damage like this outside the Games and to have it on one of their victors is too much for them.

Even Caesar pauses and watches her as she takes her time as ascending the stairs to where the other victors wait in the rafters. They are curved and from his position, Finnick can see Katniss staring at the crowd with gray eyes that shine like polished steel. This is her final statement, her final attack at Snow. _You tried to break me_ , her scars say, _but you failed. I survived. I thrived. I am stronger than you._

Finally, to finish off the night Vick Hawthorne is announced. He is dressed like Katniss, in a simple pitch black suit. He doesn't smile for them as Caesar gestures him forward and for the first time, the crowd seems to understand that his and Katniss' clothes are not the color of coal but the color of mourning.

"So Vick," Caesar says, "You are heading back into the Games, not because you were chosen, but because you volunteered. Can you tell us what was going through your mind?"

"I knew that Katniss was going in and I refused to let her go through that by herself. She's the most important person in my life and if I can save her then I will."

Caesar nods. "Somehow, I don't think that will go over well with her."

Vick laughs. "Oh, you have no idea. I don't think there was a single plate intact after our first fight."

"Sounds like our Girl on Fire has a bit of a temper."

"She's passionate and I think tonight everyone has gotten a glimpse of how deep that passion runs. I haven't had to go through the same things she has because Katniss has shielded me. This time, it's my turn." He turns from the crowd and faces Katniss. "The only thing we can do in the arena is fight for each other, protect each other because that's what we do. We are in this together Katniss, don't forget that."

Caesar turns him back around. "That was very touching Vick. I think there is nothing left to say but may the odds be ever in your favor. They were last year and maybe they will be again."

"They have never been Caesar, but I intend to change that. We can all be diamonds if we want to be and even the odds can't touch us then."

The crowd whispers and chatters as Vick is ushered away. Caesar gives his closing remarks to an emotionally drained room. They clap quietly and sniffle at the appropriate moments, and it isn't until Finnick feels a hand clasp his own and raise it above his head that they roar.

All the victors take their final bow as one. United.

*******************

Finnick had hoped to see Katniss after the televised interviews but they were quickly returned to their rooms by Peacekeepers. The elevator was even locked down to keep the victors in their designated apartments until the Games started. It seems that Snow had been displeased their final show.

With the excitement of the evening, his proclamation of marriage, and the Games tomorrow Finnick found it hard to sleep. He stares at the ceiling and goes over the plan one more time. Avoid the bloodbath. Get Vick to safety. Find his alliance: Mags, Johanna, Blight, Beetee, Wiress. Wait for the signal: a parachute of bread. The district the bread is from will be the day they escape and the number of rolls will be the hour. Protect Vick at all costs. Try not to die and pray that Katniss doesn't get herself killed.

The last one repeats in his head like a chant. Over and over again until it finally lulls him into a fitful slumber. He dreams of Katniss being hunted down by the Careers and him too far away to do anything. They skewer her, stab her, and beat her all the while she calls out for him.

He wakes up twice before finally falling into a dream that ends sweetly. Soft hands caress his hair and sweet lips press against his brow. He can smell the woods and hears her gentle words coaxing the restless worries out of him.

When he wakes in the morning the smell of sandalwood and citrus lingers on his pillow. Katniss had been here with him last night. He knows it and he knows that she will be again. He will make it happen.


	10. Fifth Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And I'm back! I bet some of you were losing hope, but fear not! I went back and forth as to write an interlude (because like you, I'm SUPER excited about the games) but after writing half of the next chapter, I went back and wrote this anyways. There are some parts I love, and some parts I can't figure out why I don't like them, so if you have any input I appreciate it. Anyways, barring any more major life developments (*cough* finishing my Masters this semester *cough*) the next chapter should hopefully be out soon! In the meantime, know that I am alive, hate real life and am working on the next installment. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns everything.

The room exuded power. Everything spoke of history, legacy, and wealth. Unlike the rest of the Capitol, the President's Office lacked the gaudy frills and ostentatious touches that were fashionable. Dark wood and rich leather seats had been specifically chosen and crafted to instill a sense of awe in the people who entered. It was, however, the man that sat behind the rich mahogany desk that caused men to lose their words and their wits when they were summoned to the room at the end of the hall.

Snow watched silently as the screen flickered to another shot of the silent streets of District Seven. Since the Victory Tour, almost one-fifth of the population of the district had been killed or captured. The whole ordeal had been bloody and the losses to lumber production had been deep.

Glancing up from the screen Snow eyed the two men in front of him.

Valen Fairbairn, the District Seven Manager shifted in his seat, wiping his hands against his pants for the third time in the last five minutes. Even from here Snow could see the sweat that had broken out on his brow.

Next to him sat Cainus Batterby, head of the Peacekeepers, glaring darkly at the paper in front of him.

"We lost 400 hundred Peacekeepers in the revolts in Districts Seven, Eight and Ten. Almost two-thirds of those were in Seven. Due to the continued violence, I have also deployed two thousand fully outfitted Peacekeepers to the District to maintain the peace." Batterby says, glancing at Fairbairn with disdain. "We haven't lost this many Peacekeepers in a single year since the Dark Days."

Fairburn pales and swallows. "T-To reduce the chances of another uprising in Seven we have further restricted access to the lumber yard tools. All axes and carving tools have also been confiscated. Anyone who requires these for work must check them out and work in designated areas. Anyone found carrying things to or from logging sites or carving quarters are to be immediately executed. This will, of course, raise the civilian death count but we are still well within the range of worker population to return to p-proper p-production."

"To reduce the chances." Snow repeats. "That is an interesting choice of words, Mr. Fairbairn. Do you believe that Mr. Batterby's Peacekeepers will fail?"

The man's hands shake and he grabs them tightly in his lap. "I was merely being precautious. The u-u-up-uprisings have been thoroughly quelled."

"I see." Snow says and when Fairbairn opens his mouth to continue his stuttering mess of platitudes the President cuts him off. "No, please. I understand your concerns and I share them. As the President of Panem it is my duty to guarantee the security and safety of all my citizens. Clearly, I have failed since you have continued doubts in my abilities to maintain the peace. Allow me to ease them for you."

"Sir, that is-" Fairbairn starts but he is cut off again.

"Like you, I am a family man, so to give you peace of mind I am extending an invitation for your wife and daughter to stay with me here in the President's mansion as my guests"

"You are too kind."

Snow smiles at him. He knows it doesn't reach his eyes. It never does. "If fighting does resume, I will exert all my power to keep my people safe. You never know what can happen during times of unrest."

Fairbairn's face drains of all blood. "I will make sure that it doesn't come to that."

"See that you do." Snow waves his hand to dismiss the shaking man. Fairbairn all but rushes out of the room and Snow looks back at Batterby. "Have his family delivered to my estate by dinner. My granddaughter will be glad of the company."

"Of course sir."

"Also have the Mountain on alert. I want our hoverplanes ready to be launched at moment's notice."

Batterby frowns. "Sir?"

"Fairbairn employs a gentle hand when we need a fist. We have one and the next District that steps out of line will be crushed by it." Snow stands and button his jacket. "We are the power in Panem. It is time that the rebels remember it."

****************************

It was just past dawn when Katniss finally makes it to her sister's small Seam house. Her body is tired and she is covered in mud and sweat. She was in the woods all night training. It had been a full moon which illuminated the forest more than her small lantern ever did so she had taken advantage of the gentle light and had pushed herself to run further and faster than normal. Now she was tired, smelt horrible and was starving.

Dumping her full game bag on the counter, Katniss fell back onto the couch with a satisfied hum. Her body ached pleasantly. Training for the upcoming Quarter Quell was a necessity but pushing herself to the limits had proven to be a much-needed outlet. Alone in the quiet darkness, she had rekindled her love of the woods. She felt light and free as her feet flew over rocks and branches and when she hunted she was confident and powerful again.

She felt like the girl who she used to be: the Girl in the Woods with her bow. The only thing that had been missing was her hunting partner. Her heart ached for Gale, and there had been times that she had looked back over her shoulder, expecting him to be there, but he never was. The first time had been the hardest. The missing part of her clenched and stole the breath from her lungs. It was paralyzing and Katniss sat there sobbing as the memories of Gale had washed over her.

Since then she had made it habit to start all her nights in the woods at her and Gale's rock. She would stare at the stars and talk to him. Like the first time, it made her feel closer to him and afterward the woods that were so full of him felt less lonely. She talked about everything that was happening in the district, but most nights she told him about Finnick.

Like Gale, she missed Finnick with an aching ferocity. Even in the increasing heat of the summer she still curled up in his sweater, holding his memory close to her heart. She hadn't heard from him since she had left the Capitol. All calls to and from Twelve had been cut off, and the only phones that seemed to be working were in the Justice Building and the Mayor's home. If Snow had hoped to break her, he failed. The silence had only fueled her determination.

Soft steps behind her altered Katniss to her sister's presence. Even though her belly was a big as a house, Prim still composed herself with effortless grace. It was something Katniss was envious of. The first few nights in the woods she had fallen over roots and rocks until her knees and elbows were bloody. It had taken a week until those bruises had healed and just as long for her feet to remember their quiet, confident steps.

The whole process of coming back to herself had been difficult both physically and emotionally. A few years ago she wouldn't have thought it would have been possible, but she had found the strength in the support of her family and Finnick. She saw her demons, faced them and fought back. They were still there, just as they always would be, but they won less and less.

"I brought you more herbs and four rabbits, two squirrels and some doves," Katniss says into the air. She probably should get up and help her sister sort through the kills but now that she had stopped her body felt heavy and refused to move.

"That's a good haul." Prim murmurs in approval. "It's about as much as you and Gale would bring in around this time."

"I was practicing my snares. I set up two snare lines a few days ago. They nowhere near as good as Gale's were but they've been productive."

"And your aim has been improving. All the squirrels were shot through the eye."

Katniss hummed in agreement but didn't say anything else. Her active night was rapidly catching up with her and all she wanted to do was sleep. Prim didn't deny her, puttering around the kitchen and preparing the meat. When she had been a child, Prim could barely think about hurting an animal but years of stitching bloody wounds had dulled her aversion. Hunting, however, was still beyond her and Katniss was glad that part of her gentle heart had remained.

Katniss must have dozed off because she awoke to the sounds of people talking quietly in the kitchen. Turning her head she could see a mess of gray hair next to Prim's in the kitchen and smell a pot of something delicious.

"Greasy Sae?" Katniss mumbles as she rubs her eyes.

The gray head shoots up and equally gray eyes gaze at her warmly. "Afternoon girl," She says with smile, "Hungry?"

"Starving." Katniss concedes. She gets up and makes her way into the kitchen and finds three large pots of stew cooking on the stove top. Prim is in the back corner cutting up some of the greens that Katniss had bought for her the day before for the broth.

"That looks like a lot of soup."

Sae nods and shrugs. "Lots of empty stomachs need filling."

Katniss sighs and runs a hand over her face. Greasy Sae had finally been let out of jail a week ago. She had been one of the last ones in holding from the Hob incident. Katniss had heard a rumor that Sae had gone around looking for extra pots as soon as she was released, but she hadn't believed the woman would be stupid enough to actually start cooking again.

"Now I know what Prim's been doing with all the extra game." She grumbled. It only made Sae and Prim smile wider. "I would tell you both to stop, but I know it won't do any good. Just please be careful."

"Can't expect us to sit around while you do all the hard work girl," Sae says with a knowing look.

Katniss reaches over and takes a chunk of bread. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She lets out a surprised squeak when Sae pinches her arm.

"So this muscle is just a trick of my old eyes?" Sae laughs. "I don't think so. You've been trainin', gettin' ready for the Games. Don't try to deny it." Sae scolds softly when Katniss opens her mouth. "Everyone can see it."

"It's inspiring people," Prim says, putting the greens into the pot. "Rory says it's all anyone's been talking about down in the mines."

Katniss frowns. "Why?"

Prim and Sae look at each other with twin incredulous looks. "Katniss, after attacking that Peacekeeper and _surviving_ you've become a living legend around here. Now you're going into the Games, an event that has choked the life out of District 12 for years, and you are facing it head on. It gives people hope."

"It's all for Vick." She protests.

Sae snorts. "You don't think they know that? It just makes them love you more. You're their hero."

All the dark things she's done - murder, prostitution, deception - fills her mind. She remembers the girl in District Four from the Victory Tour with braided blonde hair to match Katniss. She wanted to grow up to be in the Games like her idol, the Girl on Fire. She had called Katniss a hero too. The thought had burned in her just like it did now.

"I'm no hero."

Prim slides a thick soup in front of her. "Yes, you are. You've been a hero ever since you took up your bow to save mom and me." She puts her hand under Katniss' chin and forces her to look up into bright blue eyes. "The Capitol tried to change that, but they couldn't - and it makes me so proud of you. Please try to remember that when you go into the Games."

Katniss takes her hand and places a kiss on her palm. "I'm proud of you too Little Duck. And I will. I promise."

****************************

Three days later, Katniss stands on the stage for the Reaping.

Effie's voice catches when she says "Ladies first." Even she can't remain cheerful as she reaches into the large glass bowl and pulls out the single slip. She whisper's Katniss' name into the silence that has fallen over the district.

When she reaches into the identical bowl housing two slips, one for each of the men on her left, her hand is stopped by a large tan one.

"Don't bother Effie," Vick says. "I volunteer."

Katniss can see the tears on her family's face but the rest of the district is stone-faced and strong. Pride and defiance shine in their eyes as they kiss and raise their fingers in a salute. It is not a sad farewell, this time, it is given as a prayer and a promise.

Katniss takes Vick's hand and together they salute back.

****************************

Katniss is standing like a sentinel at the window, watching the scenery pass by as their train races towards the Capitol. Her eyes had tracked the last vestiges of their home district like a hawk and then when there was nothing but forest and rock they had glazed over into a palpable sadness. That had been almost three hours ago. Even Effie's quiet call for dinner hadn't been able to move her.

Vick shifts in the doorway, unnerved by her quiet. She barely said a word to him since they were forced onto the train by the Peacekeepers. He had been expecting an explosion of anger, not this grim acceptance.

Finally, working up his courage he joins her at the window. She is still dressed in her simple dress, one of her mother's, having refused to wear anything from the Capitol. He understands. Like her, he had donned Rory's old reaping clothes. They were slightly too big - Rory was broader in the shoulders than he would ever be - and Vick had to roll up the pants but he had wanted to wear them. Even though he was a victor with money to spare he was still a citizen of 12 and he wanted everyone to remember that. Vick wasn't ashamed of where he came from - he was proud of his family and his district; he wanted to represent them on that stage, not the Capitol.

"I'm not going to apologize for volunteering." He whispers into the silence. Katniss' eyes shift to him in the window and he can see the ghost of a smile. Bitter as it is, he is still glad of it.

"I wasn't expecting you too."

Silence falls over them and Vick shifts again. He doesn't know what to do with this heaviness. He opens his mouth but shuts it immediately when he feels Katniss' hand reach out to his.

"I'm still mad, but that isn't going to get us anywhere now. Now, it's just you and me." Her face crumbles and she squeezes his hand. "They didn't let us say goodbye. I needed to say goodbye."

Vick wanted to say that she would see their family again. That he was going to save her and make sure she returned to District 12, but he knew those weren't the words she needed to hear. He knew she was prepared to die for him, just like he was ready to die for her. Trying to deny their selfish plans was like trying to clean up coal dust: pointless. So he just squeezed her hand back.

"Me too. Maybe they will let us write letters. Haymitch can make sure that everyone gets them." Vick would write one for everyone, including Katniss. He wanted to leave her with something to remember him by besides the memory of his death. It wouldn't be enough to repair the damage but he hoped it would start the healing process.

"I like that idea."

A polite cough at the door gets both their attention and they turn to see Effie and a relatively sober Haymitch.

"The recap is about to start," Effie says, gesturing towards the other end of the train with the television.

Vick nods and starts that way when Katniss stops and drops his hand. "I'll be there in a second. I just want to talk to Haymitch."

The two don't wait but move towards the rear of the car, back to the window, and talk in quiet tones. He had seen the two of them with their heads bent towards each other more often than not these days. The sight made him uneasy. He knew they were planning something, something that he would likely hate. Even though Haymitch had promised Vick to get Katniss out, he was sure that he had promised Katniss the opposite. He had hoped that Haymitch's obvious affection for his fellow mentor would trump Katniss' wishes, but the way their eyes darted to him crushed that hope.

Fine. Vick turned on his heel and followed Effie down the small hallways of the train. If the two of them wanted to conspire against him they could. It wouldn't change the outcome. In the Arena, it was will, determination, and desperation that trumped everything and he had plenty of that to spare.

****************************

"Cinna." Katniss' warm voice washes over him and he embraces her. It had been over a year since he had last seen her. With Vick's Games and her aggressive campaigning he hadn't had a chance to meet his Girl on Fire and he had missed her.

Growing up, Cinna had loved his home blindly. As he got older he began to see the problems, the rot underneath the golden veneer. Every action, every word of the Capitol citizens was steeped in prejudice - and not just against the districts, though most of it was centered around them. Citizens outside the walls of the Capitol were viewed as lesser somehow because they didn't have the fine clothes or a wealth of material goods.

As a child, Cinna couldn't deny that he felt the same. It was taught in all the schools that the Capitol was the pinnacle of their civilization, the shining jewel of Panem, the paradigm in culture and class for the rest of the country to follow. It seemed natural that the districts, who were crude and brutish, required their leadership to survive.

Then he had met a victor, then another, and another. They were not dumb or backward or savage. They were smart, observant and so very broken. He could see their cracked edges, covered up with polish and made him start to question everything, and the more he questioned the more he didn't like what he saw.

Changing beliefs ingrained from birth in an oppressive dictatorship was easier said than done and Cinna had poured his frustrations into his work. The emotional depth of his designs had drawn Portia to him. Her determination and passion were infectious and when she pushed to design for the Games, he agreed. It was the grandest stage and he knew the perfect canvas: District 12. He would light them up and show the Capitol just how bright they could shine.

And shine Katniss did. His dresses might have drawn the Capitol's eye to her, but it was her own intensity that kept it. After the Games, her spark had been diminished, but over the last few years, he could see it returning. Now, looking at her, Cinna could see the blaze of determination she held once again.

"Katniss," He whispers into her hair and presses a kiss there. "It is so good to see you."

"You act like it's been years since we last met."

"It has been." His words are soft. "Tell me, Girl on Fire, are you ready to burn again?"

"Only if everyone else is ready to burn with me."

****************************

Vick had been nervous. When he met his new stylist Portia and she had gleefully painted him with layers of goop, he had been convinced that she was insane but Katniss had faith in the pair. He didn't know why until they entered the Colonnade.

He had seen clips of Katniss' iconic outfit that earned her name. Draped in flames Katniss looked dauntless and invincible like she was a more than mortal. It was a far cry from the shattered girl that haunted the streets of District 12. Even as he watched her strengthen over the years, that image of indomitability seemed like another lie the Capitol fed the Districts.

Now he saw it. It was as if every remnant of the girl he knew vanished as the sparks erupted from her fingers and set the rose on fire. It jumped to her paint and in a rush, a wall of flames burns across her skin. The light plays against the dramatic makeup and Vick can barely take his eyes off her until she reaches out and takes his hand. He watches with a mix of astonishment and horror as the flames travel from her to him. The orange line travels up his arm and he can feel the heat but it isn't uncomfortable - more like the warmth of a shower on a cold winter's day.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vick sees their faces on the screen and for a second he doesn't recognize himself. Katniss, it seemed, had transferred more than just the fire to him. Whatever magic spell that had transformed her had changed him as well. The contouring of the makeup captures the light and gives him the strong Hawthorne jaw of his brothers. Ashes peal off his torso exposing the skin tight sleeveless shirt, once black but now shining like metal - highlighting his lean muscles making his slim physique looks stronger, his shoulders more expansive, and his chest broader. Smoke billows from his waist like a tunic to match Katniss' flowing gown and together they paint a picture of untouchable power.

Last time he had been here, he had to put on a brave face to cover his cowardice, but now, in this moment, Vick felt fearless.

****************************

Whatever high Haymitch had been on after the parade crashed and burned the second he exited the elevator.

In front of him, quietly and efficiently setting the dining room table was Darius. Effie floats around the two avoxes, directing them as they prepared for dinner. The smells emanating from the covered dishes were tantalizing but the sight of the District 12 Peacekeeper quashed any desire for food.

A small choked sound came from his side and Haymitch curses. He had almost forgotten about Vick. Setting in front of the boy he forces himself to calm. This was just another of Snow's power plays. He was trying to get under their skin, and while it had worked and worked well, Haymitch would be damned if he let it show in front of the Capitolites. Already he could feel the eyes of the prep teams on him and the boy, curious about their reactions.

"Go take a shower," Haymitch growls, his anger seeping into his words.

Vick looks at him with a pale face. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly as his hurt and confused gaze darted back to the avoxes behind them.

"Now."

The second command seemed to finally sink into Vick's mind and he leaves wordlessly, casting one last sorrowful glance at the red-head. Vick knew better than to talk to the avoxes but Haymitch didn't trust him to remember at the moment. He needed to get his head on straight before doing anything stupid. Not that time could really help this situation much.

Drink. Haymitch needed a drink. He had been with sponsors all through the parade so he had been relatively sober, but like hell, he was going to stay that way.

"You," He said, getting Darius' attention. "Get me a drink."

Even from across the room Haymitch could see the angry splotches of red on his cheeks as Darius went to the small bar and poured him two fingers of whiskey. Instead of waiting for the man to bring it to him, Haymitch walked over, leaned across the bar and took the glass. Downing it in one gulp he handed it back to Darius impatiently.

"Keep it coming."

"Do you think that's wise?" Effie asked. Haymitch shot her a dismissive glare.

"Right now it is. If you've got a problem with that, you can just leave."

She huffed, mumbling something about decency and left to go to the living room. She poked her head back in right before she was out of the room. "Dinner is in half an hour. Try not to be too drunk by then."

Haymitch could do a lot of damage to his liver by then but he knew after dinner he had to go schmooze with the sponsors. No matter how much he wanted the welcoming darkness that came with drink, getting money for the tributes was more important.

Darius poured him a second glass, but Haymitch waved it off, taking the bottle instead. He took a large swig of the amber liquid, enjoying the way it burned down his neck. When he saw Darius go to put the glass in the sink Haymitch grabbed his arm.

"Don't waste good booze boy. That's better than anything Ripper made. "

Darius blinks and looks behind him. They could hear Effie and the prep teams in the other room, but otherwise, they were alone. Darius didn't think twice before downing the glass and pushed it towards him in a silent request for more. Haymitch wasn't about to deny him this.

He smirks as he filled the avox's glass. "Good to see they didn't take your wits when they took your tongue." Darius glared at him but Haymitch just shrugged. He never sugar coated anything and he wasn't about to start now.

"Has Katniss come back yet?" He asks. Darius nods.

"Did she see you?" Darius shakes his head. He smirks while making a kissing sound.

"Finnick." Haymitch laughs. He shouldn't be surprised.

He takes another swig and fills up Darius' glass for a third time. "Now you see what I've been putting up with. How she fell for that preener is beyond me, but the girl is happy. Never thought I'd live to see the day after the Hawthorne boy died."

No matter how much he teased Katniss, he was glad she had found Finnick. He was good for her and that was something hard to come by in this life. Not that he would ever tell the little peacock that - Finnick's ego could already rival Snow's. No need to encourage him.

Darius raises his drink in salute - to Finnick or Gale, Haymitch isn't sure, but he clinks his bottle against the glass anyways. He would drink to those boys any day - idiots and heroes both. This world, no this _war_ , needed more people like them. They needed people like Darius too - to cover the backs of rash fools as they dive head first into the fray.

Effie calls to Haymitch from the other room, something about going over Katniss' list of sponsors before dinner. He wanted to roll his eyes at the woman, but it would be useful. Katniss had supplied the names of people who she had strong ties with, people he would have to talk to later, and the list was longer than he had patience for. To keep his sanity and her good graces with the upper elite of the Capitol, Haymitch would have to spend quality time with a select few before he lost his battle with the bottle.

Taking one last gulp of his drink he stood, sliding the bottle back towards Darius but before he can leave the avox reaches out to him. He hands Haymitch a piece of paper with the word "help?" scrawled on there quickly.

Haymitch shoves the note quickly into his pocket before anyone could accidentally see it.

"I'll let you know," Haymitch says. And he would. Having an avox on his side would be helpful.

****************************

Surveillance systems were a part of life in Panem. It had been in place since the Dark Days, and thanks to many of the updates in technology - smaller cameras, thinner wires, mounting systems that blended into walls, microphones smaller than a grain of rice - most citizen didn't realize they were being monitored. It had started as a security precaution. Even with the defeat of the rebels and the implementation of the Hunger Games, there were still pockets of resistance and the need for continued safety had driven the complex system's development.

Updating and maintaining the surveillance infrastructure was handled by District Three and overseen by a division of Peacekeepers in District Two. It wasn't widely talked about and most of the citizens had forgotten that they were being monitored. Those in the Capitol didn't care much, it was, after all, for their safety and those in the districts didn't know. However, if the people knew the extent to which they were being watched and listened to most would feel violated.

Snow, when he had come to power had implemented an extreme overhaul of the system. During his presidency, the number of cameras had doubled. They were installed wherever he saw fit, sometimes for the safety of Panem and sometimes for his own personal security. Snow's rise to power had been messy and ruthless. He had left as much fear as hatred in his wake. The cameras insured his reign was long and that his enemies were kept powerless.

Most of the footage was filed and stored without ever being watched. Now, however, with the threat of unrest and rebellion building, many feeds were monitored every hour of every day. One such feed was currently up on Snow's screen. He had requested Katniss Everdeen's be watched and he be notified when she found the present he had left for her.

The Peacekeeper had been brought to the Capitol has his request as soon as he had seen the video of Katniss being beaten. Originally, the man was set to be executed for his defiance of Head Peacekeeper Wright, as was the law, but Snow had decided to spare him. He was so much more useful to him alive.

Katniss Everdeen had taken one look at the red-head avox and left the room. Snow had to admit, her ability to keep up appearances was admirable but she couldn't hide from him. He watched as she slumped against the door emotionally shattered.

"Ms. Everdeen, if only you had bent when I asked." He whispers as he traces a finger over the screen as if he could wipe away her tears from here. "Now I will have to break you and I will do it for all the world to see."

The districts had rallied around Vick Hawthorne but he was nothing more than an inspirational figure. The true threat to Snow's regime lay with the Girl on Fire and once she falls the Hawthorne boy and his influence will follow quickly enough.

****************************

"Ah, there's the man I wanted to see! Haymitch, old son, how are are our tributes doing in training? Effie here won't tell me a thing." Marius Phillin asks, slapping Haymitch on the back. On his arm is Effie who smiles politely but Haymitch can see the distance she is trying to put between herself and the drunk man. Behind them trail two other district managers - Tiber Hest of District Eight and Remus Gellan of District One - each with their own dolled up escort.

Effie eyes him, staring at Haymitch with a pointed look. It's the same look she always gives him before he appears on camera. It's so routine that he can hear her overly cheerful chip of "Smile Haymitch!" Biting back a growl and a grimace, Haymitch does his best to appear friendly. Since Phillin was the manager of District 12 and one of Katniss' appointments he had already pledged a significant amount of money to bring her home. It had also been made perfectly clear that the funds were for Katniss and Katniss alone, but if everything went according to plan Haymitch wouldn't be around to hear the man whine about how his money was used.

The other two - Hest and Gellan - hadn't pledged anything yet, but Effie said that Hest was betting heavily on the District 12 tributes. It wasn't surprising; Woof, the District 8 male tribute, was old and slightly mad and Cecelia, the female tribute, had distanced herself from the Capitol as much as possible after her games. Neither were particularly intimidating and their lack of recent publicity wouldn't garner them much support.

"I believe he's not a liberty to answer that," Gellan says.

"Hints never hurt." Hest puts in with a saccharine smile. "Any interesting tidbits you'd like to share with us - alliances being forged, new skills being shown, people who are falling short of expectations?"

He smirks over at Gellan and the small man frowns. Gloss and Cashmere, the tributes from District One, have a dedicated following in the Capitol. Tributes from Districts One and Two always have an edge due to their extensive training, but this year there is the added drama of Gloss and Cashmere being siblings. The Capitol was practically chomping at the bit to see the two of them make it to final. Everyone wanted to see the emotional fallout of the two tearing each other to pieces.

It was part of the reason that Haymitch had so many funds for his tributes. By announcing her intention to protect Vick at all costs - including her sacrificing herself - Katniss had created the greatest act of heroism and tragedy the Games had ever seen. She was a Capitol darling and her dedication to Vick was causing ripples among the population. They were rooting for her, some for her survival, but more to for her success. They wanted her to save Vick.

"I can't tell you who, but I can say that Katniss and Vick will be part of an alliance," Haymitch says. Gellan frowns at this, but the other two perk up.

"That's my girl!" Phillin says, kissing Effie on the cheek. "I knew she had a good head on her shoulders."

Gellan huffs. "It all depends on who she allies herself with."

Hest smirks, elbowing him in the ribs. "She certainly knows better than to ally with the tributes from District One or Two."

Red tinges the small man's cheek. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I do not put a lot of stock into your so-called fighters this year," Hest says, rubbing his nose in a dismissive gesture. Phillin nods his head in agreement.

"If I was Katniss Everdeen I would ally myself with Finnick Odair." Says the woman on Hest's arm. All the men's eyes turn to her, even Haymitch's gaze falls on her and for the first time, he really looks at her. The dark wig and jeweled eyelashes make it hard to place her at first but when she nods at him her earrings glitter and Haymitch sees the small set of branches and purple berries dangling there. It's Fulvia Cardew, Plutarch Heavensbee's personal assistant. Her makeup was so different from her usual style and so heavy that it was almost like she was another person.

That was probably the point. It wouldn't do if the Head Gamemaker's assistant was seen at a sponsorship party. Information on the games was heavily guarded and bribed officials were never seen again.

Hest pulls away from her shocked and clearly unimpressed with her choice. "Odair? Really? That boy is nothing more than a pretty face - and, frankly, even that is lacking."

Phillin nods his head solemnly. "Here, here."

"She has a point." Effie says. "That pretty face, as you so quaintly put it, draws quite a lot of support from the female population. I have heard that he already has over one hundred sponsors and the scores haven't even been announced yet! That kind of popularity would be very beneficial to whomever allies with him in the arena."

Effie would know. Earlier she had been walking the room with the District Four escort and seven people had come up offering to support Finnick within the first hour.

"And," Fulvia adds, "Finnick has shown great skill in the arena recently. He is one of the few victors that still maintains a fit figure. Clearly, he will be someone to watch. If I were her, I most certainly would want a powerful ally like that."

Hest and Phillin pouted, and Gellan looked pensive. "Finnick will, like most others in the past, be joining the alliance with District One and Two."

"Are you so sure?" Effie says. "I can tell you that all the rumors about Katniss and Finnick are true. They are close friends."

"Is that a fact?" Phillin's face grows hard. He's never liked the idea of Katniss being close to the boy. It wasn't surprising - not with Finnick's reputation in the Capitol and the district manager's obsession with Katniss.

"It is."

All their eyes turned to Haymitch who just shrugs. "I have said everything I can. But the ladies have some good points."

The three men looked at each other and then as if they were of one mind went off in the direction that Haymitch had seen the District Four manager go earlier that evening. Hest, who had been escorting Fulvia releases his hold on her, clearly annoyed with her bringing up the peacock. Phillin isn't in a much better mood and lets Effie stay with the pair without a fight.

Effie immediately loops her arm through Fluvia's with a smile. Haymitch groans, watching the two women chat amicably. Together, the two paint a very vivid picture - one that he would prefer they didn't. Effie is dressed in gold and feathers, just like the golden mockingjay hair pin buried in her shining wig while Fluvia is dripping in dark purple beads to match her earrings. They are the living embodiment of what has become the symbols of the revolution. It's bold, taunting and attention getting.

And Haymitch could throttle them.

If he didn't rely on their communique with other key members of Capitol's resistance he would lock them both in the Tribute Center and throw away the damn key.

"Oh, do have a drink." Effie throws over her shoulder with a sly smile. "The Games haven't even started yet and you look like you could topple over with worry." Haymitch grits his teeth. She knows exactly what they look like and she is _enjoying_ it.

"A drink won't help situation - unless you want me to spill it all over your ridiculous dress."

Effie frowns. "You wouldn't."

"Just try me, sweetheart."

Effie opens her mouth to say something else - probably about how much her dress cost - but Fluvia interrupts. "If you two are quite done. I actually could use a drink."

With an overly dramatic apology, Effie leads Fluvia a bar in the corner that was empty save for the avox serving drinks. The two women chatter about a bit of everything for awhile: dresses, other district Escorts, who was blessed with the best-behaved victors - Haymitch knew most of Effie's complaints were digs at him. He drowned them out until Fluvia mentioned the betting pools.

When she talked about the rumors of alliances he cut in. "Those were some pretty insightful predictions you had." He says, handing his empty glass to the man behind the counter. "Most people have just assumed that Finnick will be joining the other Careers."

Fulvia shrugs. "I have heard from a mutual friend that the two are doing interesting things in the training center. Alliances are being made and broken. One might be concerned if they heard the kind of things that Katniss has been up to."

Haymitch frowns and tries to hide it behind his glass. He knows exactly what Katniss had been up to. They had fought about it for weeks. She thought that it would be better if she went after the Careers alone while Haymitch wanted her to stick with Vick and the others. It would make extraction much simpler. She refused to hear it. Stupid silly girl.

Effie frowns, looking nervously at Fluvia. She had no idea what Katniss had planned and if she did he knew he would be the one on the receiving end of Effie's lecture - not Katniss.

"Anything else interesting our friend said?"

"Just that he has been eating a lot of bread from District Three lately. He wondered if Katniss had ever tried it." Fulvia says.

Bread from District Three. _Day three_. The plan was set to go off on the third day of the Games.

"I don't think she has. Maybe she'll enjoy it as a treat in the arena."

Fulvia smiles over the edge of her glass. "I'm sure she would. And since she's in an alliance, you should send quite a bit of it so that everyone has enough."

"How many would you suggest?" Effie asks politely, pulling out a pad to look at their funds to determine if they could afford it.

"Depends on how hard it is to get. Three loves at least."

Effie hums and he starts seeing her set aside the money. She didn't know the significance of the bread. She was just doing what Effie did best: planning, then planning to plan some more. Haymitch wasn't too worried about the money. They already had more than enough for the bread. In fact, Phillin's donation alone covered enough bread to feed the whole field of tributes for a few days.

No, Haymitch was more concerned with what happened _after_ the bread was sent. Afterall, from the sound of it, things were still up in the air but at least the day had been set. The third day of the games would be the day that the rebellion was going to start.

****************************

Katniss curled into a ball, trying to pretend that she didn't feel the biting chill of the wind. The roof was an excellent place to talk but it wasn't a place to linger at night. Finnick had stormed off after their fight and she couldn't bring herself to go after him. There was nothing left to say. She wasn't going to change her mind, and even if she had, there was no going back now. Not after her score had been posted.

She had scored a 12. That was unprecedented. It was the first one in the history of the games.

Then again, her actions in her private training session were likely just a ground breaking. She had threatened the Gamemakers themselves. It was a risky move and everyone, especially Finnick, had exploded at her but it was for the best. Better the Gamemakers targeted her than Vick and Finnick.

She feels Haymitch sit down before she hears him. His body blocked out a good portion of the wind and his side radiated warmth. She wanted to curl into that heat, but she wanted it to come from someone else.

"He hates me." She says, pulling her knees tighter to her chest.

"No one is particularly happy with you right now, sweetheart. It took me a while to calm Vick down. He's not stupid. He knows exactly what that 12 means."

Katniss sighs. "Do you think they will ever forgive me?"

"Only if you survive. And you haven't exactly made that easy. Good thing you only have to make it three days in there."

"Three days? Are you sure?"

Haymitch nods. "I got confirmation yesterday. I'm still waiting to hear the hour, but I'll let you know in the arena. Just get to the group by the third day. That's all you have to worry about."

Katniss frowns. "That doesn't give me a lot of time."

"You could just stay with the others."

She shakes her head. "Too late now. I'll just have to try to take out the Careers at the Cornucopia."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Haymitch pull out one of the multitude of flasks that he always seems to have on him. He mutters something about 'stupid kids' and takes a deep drink. "You realize that there are four of them and only one of you, right?"

She didn't need the reminder. "In the bloodbath, there will be others who want to fight."

"No, everyone one else will be trying to survive. Beetee and Wiress will be making a run for it along with Vick and Mags - if Mags can get that boy to leave your side. Don't think that Finnick will leave the area until he knows you're out danger."

"He'll go with Vick. He knows the plan."

Haymitch snorts. "That boy is as protective and stubborn as you are, and now he's mad. He might just throw you over his shoulder and take you with him."

Katniss winces. She knows he's right. Hopefully, Finnick would cool down before they entered the arena. Maybe she could talk to him tomorrow before the interviews. "What about Johanna?"

"She'll have her hands full with Beetee and Wiress. Don't count on her help." He took another large gulp from his drink. "Anyone else you want to bank on? The Morphlings? Or how about the two from District Five?"

"You've made your point," Katniss growls.

"Have I? Outside our alliance, we have people that either already on the verge of death or want to stay out of the Career's warpath. The one, I might add, you set them on."

She stands up. "What do you want me to do? Admit that I was being stupid?"

Haymitch gets up and puts the drink in her hands. "That is always appreciated, but no. What I want you to do is run. Grab your bow and get the hell out of there. The Careers are prideful, arrogant idiots and they will follow you. Go to the woods where you'll have the advantage and finish what you've started. _That_ is the only way you'll survive."

It sounded simple enough and just as stupid as her idea. It depended on the Careers following her and not Vick. She was confident they would have orders to take him out. The question was: who would they target first once they realized that she was splitting off from the group? It also depended on the terrain. If there were no woods, no matter what, Katniss would be lost. She wouldn't last the three days needed until whatever rescue attempt Haymitch had organized came for her.

Katniss hated how many variables there were. Looking down at the flask in her hand she finally understood why Haymitch drank so much. It wasn't just the dreams. What drove him to the bottle again and again was all the ways things could go wrong, and there was nothing he could do but hope and pray.

She tipped the bottle back, coughing as the whiskey burned going down. "Any other advice?"

"Yeah. Stay alive."

****************************

"Why does it feel like I am dressing for my own funeral?" Vick mutters, playing with the diamond cuff links on his shirt. They are the only embellishment on the simple suit.

He adjusts the jacket and the shirt - each as dark as night. It was so different from the outfit he wore in the opening ceremonies. That was armor and invoked a sense of strength so overpowering that he seemed untouchable. Now he felt...human. Like he was a shadow of the man from the ceremonies and could fade into memory with just a blink.

"In a way, we are."

Vick starts when he hears her voice - Katniss had always been quiet but her training in the woods made her near-impossible to detect sometimes. She walks into the room on silent feet and he glances down at her black dress - as dark and simple as his suit. In the mirror, he catches the complete lack of a back. It exposes her scars - a fragile moment in her life.

It hits him then. "You want them to see us as people."

Katniss nods. "We _are_ people. They need to remember that." Her eyes go cold as she flattens out his lapel. To it, she attaches a golden brooch with a branch of berries, each a dark jewel. "We are more than just toys in their games."

Reaching up he touches the accessory. The gems were the same color as the nightlock berries he ate in the games. He had seen the symbol before: in Portia's bracelet, on Effie's necklace, hanging from Cinna's ear. It stirred something in him that he didn't want to think about. An excited hope that something was happening - and a blinding terror he was at the center of it.

"Yes, we are."

"You know," Katniss says, "Gale would be proud of you." Her voice is warm and full of emotion as she traces her hand over his cheek. "I'm proud of you too."

He grabs her hand and holds on to it just to feel her. Proud of him. She was _proud_ of him. Part of him had known, but he didn't realize how much he needed to hear it. Nothing in their relationship had been right since the announcement of the Quarter Quell. Katniss had been so distant - even more so after her beating. She ran to the woods at night and slept most of the day. When she was up, she was talking to Haymitch and Rory. She even spent more time with Madge than him. _Madge_. Whenever he tried to confront her about it Katniss was elusive and mysterious, running off to deal with something else - anything else but him.

He had missed her.

"Even though you're mad at me for being here?"

She nods. "Furious actually. And filled with the perfectly rational fear that I could lose you."

Pulling on her arm Vick drags her into a tight hug. " _That_ I understand. I'm worried you're going to do something stupid - not that you haven't already."

She pulls back and glares at him. "What does that mean?"

"You're training score." He shakes his head. "What did you do to earn that?"

Katniss has the decency to blush and look away. "I hung a dummy with the words 'Seneca Crane' on his chest."

Crane. That name sounded familiar. Hadn't he heard Effie and Haymitch talking about him? They were talking about... "The _Gamemaker_?"

"The previous one. Snow killed him for not letting both you and Abigail die in the Arena."

The room suddenly seemed very small and it was very hard to breathe. "You threatened the Gamemakers." The nervous energy fills his stomach and causes it to dance. It bubbles out of his throat in nervous laugher. "You are _never_ allowed to criticize my actions again."

"Why not?" She snaps.

"Because I clearly learned how to be brash from you!"

"No." She shakes her head. "That is all you're Hawthorne blood."

Vick smirks. "Or Everdeen teaching. Prim used to be such a sweet girl, now she's helping Greasy Sae cook stew illegally for the homeless in the Seam."

"That's sweet. She's _still_ sweet." Her words were punctuated with a fierce glare. No matter how old she got, Prim would always be Katniss' 'Little Duck'.

"So, Prim's acts of defiance are fine and mine aren't? That's a bit harsh."

Katniss frowns. "She's still thinking of her family. You aren't. You're just-" She trails off with a frustrated huff. "I didn't come here to fight about this. There's no point in it now."

Vick nods. They had been over the same argument a hundred times. It hadn't changed his mind before the Reaping and it wasn't going to change it now.

"Why did you come here?"

She is silent for a moment and Vick can almost see her thinking over every word, making sure that she chooses the right ones. Katniss might be an impulsive, recklessly brave woman who puts others before herself, but she can also be very careful. The first one was her nature. The second was born from years of living in the Capitol's shadow.

"I meant what I said. I am proud of you. You have this...light inside you. And it's powerful. You can make people believe in the impossible with that Hawthorne heart of yours." She places her hand flat on his chest. "Gale had it too." Her voice trails off and then she shakes herself free from whatever memory she was lost in. "I wanted you to know that."

Vick swallowed the rapidly forming lump in his throat. Her words were a strange contradiction: they were warm and inspiring, and Vick knew they were true - but they were also said with such finality that it made his blood run cold. It was like she was saying goodbye.

It had been like this ever since the Reaping.

"Katniss-" Vick is cut off by Portia's knock on the door.

"It's time to go." She says.

Katniss turns to leave but Vick stops her with a hand on her arm. "That Hawthorne heart you talked about, it would be nothing without the Everdeen will. And they need each other to work properly."

She pries his hand off her arm. "It's a good thing you've got both then."

She walks out the door and he looks down at his hand. Her lingering warmth quickly dissipates in the cool room. "Not without you Katniss." He whispers, clutching his hand as if he could hold onto her.

****************************

"Break our chains and marry me."

Anything else Finnick might have said is drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Behind Katniss, the prep teams and stylists chatter away excitedly. Names are thrown about: women he had been seen with repeatedly, women he had been seen with recently, women he swooned over in public. Everyone was trying to figure out just who this 'special someone' was.

The other victors on the other hand all had their gazes directed at her. They all knew just who he was talking about. So did she - it was _her_ after all - but she couldn't seem to get the idea that Finnick was proposing and to whom to line up into a single, coherent thought.

_"I'll dream enough for the both of us."_ Those had been his words, his promise, and he didn't disappoint. But marriage? This was big; bigger than she ever dared to dream.

Ever since her time in the hospital Katniss had started to believe in a future that could be theirs but all her dreams were fragile, ephemeral things that disappeared if she thought about them for longer than a heartbeat. Rational thought, fears, and the image of President Snow always destroyed them.

The only hopes that survived weren't for her but her family. She dreamt of a future where Vick could study to be a doctor and Prim would never fear her child being reaped. And Finnick, happy in a cabin by the sea. She wanted to be there to see it all but the more she talked with Haymitch, the less likely that seemed. War was coming and with it death. Snow's promise of destruction, of reducing her home to rubble, lingered in the back of her mind and in her dreams until she woke up with the taste of ash in her mouth.

"Wow," Vick whispers next to her. He is as shell-shocked as her. Somehow this, out of everything cuts through her thoughts. He should have expected Finnick to do something like this - she should have too but these things always seem to sneak up on her. Vick, on the other hand, was observant and smart and had teamed up with Prim on multiple occasions to tease her relentlessly about her distant lover.

"I never..." He trails off and turns to her. "What are you going to do?"

What _was_ she going to do? They were going into the Hunger Games tomorrow with no guarantee that either of them were going to survive. More than that, they were going to start a revolution that would burn through every District until they won or died trying. How could she think about marriage and happiness and her future when she couldn't seem to get past that?

But to get to marry Finnick, did she even want that? It was easy to picture, easier than she would have liked to admit.

_Finnick whispering "Until I leave, you are mine and I am yours" into her ear because Finnick always likes to hold her as close as possible. Bread - warm and sweet and slathered with a thick helping of decadent cream that reminds her of him. The sound of the ocean in the distance, the taste of salt on the wind, and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. A promise of better tomorrows than yesterdays._

Like with Gale, she hadn't realized she wanted - needed - the promise of forever until it was offered, but she wouldn't survive if that was ripped from her again. So she would hide her answer until after the Games. If they both made it out the Arena, made it out of the war, made it to the future they coveted so desperately then she would. She, Katniss Everdeen, would marry Finnick Odair.

And she hoped Snow would be alive just long enough to watch as the very last grip he had on her crumbled.

****************************

"Assholes." Katniss grumbles, stripping out of her beautiful dress and slipping into Gale's old shirt and Finnick's sweater. Tonight, of all nights, she wanted to spend it wrapped in Finnick's arms but Snow had decided against it. The Peacekeepers had collected them the after the interviews - second the cameras were off - and forcefully escorted them back to the Tribute Center. They had even locked down the elevators making it impossible for her to even sneak up to the roof.

She had kicked the elevator doors hard after she was unceremoniously deposited on the 12th floor, which in hindsight hadn't been the best decision. Her high heels hadn't been any match for the steel doors and her foot still ached from the attempt.

Annoyed and overly anxious, Katniss takes one look at the bed and curls up on the floor next to it. She changes the wall image to the ocean and buries her face into the cook of her elbow, inhaling the smell of Finnick's soap. She had made him wear the sweater at every possible opportunity to restore the garment to its former glory. It was still a pale comparison, but with the gentle sound of the waves and the faint scent of salt, Katniss finally found the knot in her stomach uncurling. Thoughts of tomorrow and everything that could go wrong were mercifully pushed to the back of her mind and she let herself drift back to her time in District Four. The feel of Finnick's arms, the warmth of his skin, the way he looked at her and kissed her and touched her.

Katniss drifted lightly through memories, shying away from any thoughts of Snow and the Games until she heard her door creak. Instantly she was awake and spinning, unconsciously using the bed as cover. When she saw the mop of red hair she frowned and stood.

Darius smiled at her and waved her over. Katniss, of course, came willingly. Darius gives her braid a quick tug, just like he did countless times in District 12, and beckons her to follow. The hallway is dark and the two move silently past the bedrooms, through the living area and into the small kitchen in the back. It was mostly sparse, more for housing dirty dishes than anything else, but compared to the lavishness of the rest of the apartment this utilitarian room seems out of place. Darius leads her through a door at the back and the two descend a set of cramped concrete stairs. It takes Katniss a minute to realize where they are, but she understands when they pass another avox carrying a load of laundry past them. This section of the tower belongs to the avoxes - a way for them to move without burdening the rest of the elite with their presence. Not once had she ever seen an avox in the elevators or in the halls. It was because they were forced to scurry through the walls like rodents.

"Where are we going?" Katniss whispers, and in the silence of the stairwell the sound is jarring.

Darius pulls out a small notepad and jots something down with a small smirk on his face. "Finnick," it says and Katniss blushes. Except for her family and Haymitch, no one back home knows and having someone from 12, especially when that someone is Darius, know seems embarrassing. This was the Peacekeeper who had flirted with her, joked with her and teased her relentlessly when it became clear that she and Gale were more than just friends.

Another note is shoved into her line of vision. "If I had known you liked red heads that much I would have tried harder in 12." It read and Katniss looked up into Darius twinkling brown eyes. Even after everything he had been through Darius still had a boyish charm about him, an easy smile and cocky stance.

It's too much. She reaches out, clutching his shirt. " I'm sorry. I am so sorry. It's all my fault and-"

He pulls her close, the rest of her apology is lost even as she keeps mumbling it. Guilt, shame and fear poor from her in an unending torrent of words. He had helped her, helped the people of District 12, and it had caused him to lose his tongue, his freedom, and his dignity.

Awkwardly he reaches around her and jots another note against the wall. The handwriting is incredibly poor, making it hard to read but she still can make it out.

"I don't blame you."

"You should." She bites out. "I do and there isn't anything I can do to make it right."

"Don't let them win. Keep yourself and Vick safe. That's what you can do." He writes.

Darius' hands are gentle as they brush aside the hair that has come free from her braid and he places a soft kiss on her forehead. It's so forgiving and accepting that Katniss can't help but relent when his arms come around her again. He can't speak anymore, but she knows that everything he said was the truth. He doesn't blame her. Some part of her will always blame herself, but his embrace and gentle smile take so much of it away, at least for the moment.

When Darius is sure the tears are done he leads her down past doors and landings - each with a system of codes and numbers until they reach one that says "D4K". He sticks his hand in and waves her in. The apartment is just as quiet and dark as the one upstairs but Katniss knows her way around.

"Be here by five." He writes, stopping just inside the kitchen. "Or else I won't be able to get you back upstairs."

"I will. And thank you."

Darius grabs her braid and tickles her face with the end before retreating into the kitchen. Katniss hears the door close and knows he's gone.

Finnick's room is the first on the left. And she enters quietly - half hoping that he's awake and half dreading it. She didn't want to have to answer his earlier question. It would just lead to more arguments about the Arena and she didn't have the energy for that. The whole evening had been draining and it was catching up with her.

The door creaked quietly and the resulting mumble from the room made her pause. For a second, she thought Finnick was up but then the words turned into a pained moan. He tossed and turned, knotting the sheets around him as he called softly for her. Katniss didn't deny him. She pulled up the blanket that had been kicked to the foot of the bed and slid in next to him.

"It's alright." She whispered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm here."

He stilled and sighed, relaxing into her. "Katniss," He breathed, nuzzling her hand ever so slightly.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead she settled next to him. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere." She clutched him tightly and inhales the smell of salt and sand that seems to cling to his skin no matter how far he is from the sea. "And neither are you."


	11. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everybody! I'm not dead. Huzzah! Here's the first installment of the 75th Hunger Games! I say "first" because I divided this chapter into two parts. When I was hitting the 50-page mark and still not done with the Games, I realized I needed to break this chapter into two if I wanted to get it out anytime soon...So, here's Part 6.1. Part 6.2 will be out soon since I'm on the last scene and then it needs editing, so you shouldn't have to wait too long. Be warned, though! Afterward, there is likely to be another long break while I work on two of my other stories that I've been bugged about. So just keep that in mind. 
> 
> Otherwise, I apologize in advance for the lack of Finnick/Katniss moments in this chapter - they all ended up in 6.2. I guess that means there's something to look forward to. 
> 
> I know you have been waiting a long time, and I hope this lives up to all your hopes and dreams. Please enjoy, and as usual, I would love to hear any comments/critiques that you might have.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Disclaimer: The poem "Tick, tock. Tick, tock," By John Kendrick Bangs, clearly doesn't belong to me. Also, all Hunger Games characters and direct quotes belong to Suzanne Collins.

Water - _saltwater_ \- clear, blue and beautiful surrounded the pedestal that Finnick stands on. He could have laughed with joy when he saw it. He hadn’t known what to expect when his stylist handed him the skin tight suit and bright purple belt, but this was better than he could have hoped for. The small lake is divided into sections by thin strips of land radiating out from the island in the center that houses the shining golden Cornucopia. The spokes are close enough for tributes that can’t swim but Finnick is from District Four. He is faster in the water than on land. He can swim the forty yards to the island before most other tributes could make it to the paths. 

On the platform to his left is one of the Morphlings - nothing of concern. A few sections over he could make out Enobaria and Gloss together and just past them, Cashmere and Brutus. The Gamemakers had put the Careers together to give them an advantage. Finnick shook his head. It didn’t matter. He would still make it to the Cornucopia first and once he had his hands on a weapon he could worry about them. 

The gong sounds and Finnick launches into the water with a powerful dive. He doesn't even have to think as his body glides easily through the waves. The island is empty when he pulls himself onto the sand - most are still stuck on their plates looking confused and scared. 

Most years the supplies were spread out, but this time they are piled in the mouth of the horn and Finnick’s gaze quickly lands on a beautiful golden trident and net. They are almost identical to the ones he won his games with all those years ago and he knows exactly who put them there. _Plutarch Heavensbee_ , he thinks, _I could kiss you_. 

The soft sound of feet on sand draws his attention. If he hadn’t grown up with the sound he might not have caught the subtle shifting of the grains. Raising his trident, he turns the corner. Katniss spins with her arrow drawn, the point an inch from his heart. Some of the tension in his body leaves sees her and he instinctively draws her into a hug.

“So you can swim too. Where’d you learn that in District Twelve?” He laughs into her ear. 

“We have a big bathtub,” She breathes out and he feels her leaning into him. Her face presses deeper into his shoulder and her arm reaches around to keep him in place. For one heartbeat Finnick lets himself drown in the sensation of Katniss with salt on her skin and the smell of the ocean in her hair. 

_Soon_. He promises himself as he pulls away. Soon they will be away from here and out of Snow’s reach. Then he would take her to the ocean and lay with her on the sands. If he didn’t believe that then he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to let her go. 

Footsteps cause both of them to tense. Finnick catches a glimpse of the body coming around the corner. Blonde hair and pale skin. Not one of their allies. Before he can think too much about the fact that he is about to kill someone he _knows_ , someone he has possibly laughed and cried with, he pulls Katniss behind him and looses his trident. 

It sinks deep into the chest of the man from District Five and sends him flying back onto the sands. His eyes dilate and his breath comes in short rapid spurts before it finally stops. He looks at Finnick with dead eyes, the same ones from his dreams as Finnick frees the trident from his chest. 

“We’re going to need supplies,” Katniss says but her voice sounds distant to him. “Each take a side?” 

Finnick nods, shaking himself free of the memory. Focus. He needed to focus. Out of the corner of his eye, he makes out the Careers just reaching land. Guess they don’t have big bathtubs. 

“Anything useful?” Katniss shouts. 

He blinks and looks back at the abundant pile spilling from the Cornucopia. There are maces, swords, bows and arrows, knives, spears, and more types of weapons that even Finnick doesn’t know the name for...and nothing else. No food, no water, no shelter. 

He curses and pockets some knives and an awl for Mags to make fishing hooks and moves back to Katniss. She’s got an extra bow slung over her shoulder and more arrows. Her eyes aren’t even on the knives she’s sliding into her belt but on Enobaria and Gloss who are moving closer. 

“Go find Vick,” She says, pulling one of the arrows from her quiver and taking aim. 

“But--” 

She shoots forcing Enobaria back into the water. Gloss, who was right behind her, isn’t so lucky. The arrow sinks deep into his calf as he tries to dive into the waves. Katniss turns to Finnick and puts a hand to his chest, pushing him away.

“GO!” She shouts and Finnick can see panic and determination blazing in her eyes. 

There’s no time for a long goodbye. No time for promises and kisses. Four spokes over Finnick sees Brutus making landfall. Soon all four of the Careers would be here and he still needed to find the rest of his alliance. 

“You too,” He says but Katniss is already running to the other side of the Cornucopia - towards the danger. 

Trying to ignore the twisting in his gut, Finnick goes in the opposite direction. He hadn’t been able to see this part of the arena from his metal plate which meant that both Mags and Vick had to be over here. Luckily, they are in the same section. Mags is making her way over to Vick, her grey head bobbing over the waves. She paddles slowly to him as he clings to the side of the platform, smart enough at least to have something to hide behind. 

“Vick!” Finnick shouts and both the boy and Mag’s look at him. “Stay there. I’ll get you." 

Mags immediately changes course and heads towards the nearest spoke. Finnick casts one more glance around but sees none of the Careers - a good and bad sign all at the same time - before diving in and swimming out to the stranded boy. 

“Thanks,” Vick says when Finnick reaches him. “I wonder how Katniss is handling it. Have you found her yet?” 

“Yes,” Finnick replies.

Vick’s grey eyes dart around, looking for her. When they don’t find her, they land back on Finnick and he sees the same nervousness that twists his stomach reflected there. He presses it down and loops one arm around Vick.

“She’s alive. Now let me help you." 

Vick comes along peacefully. Mags is already on dry land waiting for them when they pull themselves out of the water. That surprises Finnick. She made better time than he thought she would.

She points to her purple belt. “Flotation devices," 

Finnick blinks and shakes his head. No wonder Katniss was able to swim as well as she did. “Big bathtub my ass,” he mumbles. 

“What?” Vick asks, clearly confused. 

“The belts. They help you float, at least enough to keep your head above water. Can’t have all the tributes drowning again." 

“Oh,” Vick says, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Guess I didn’t need your help." 

Finnick smirks. “I wouldn’t go that far." 

The sound of splashing catches all their attention and Finnick sees a someone pulling themselves out of the water a few spokes away. With their backs turned he can’t make out who it is but they look on the larger side. “Let’s get out of here. We can discuss the benefits of our outfits later." 

Vick turns sharply to him. “What about Katniss?”

“Katniss isn’t coming,” Finnick grounds out. The words taste like a storm on the sea - a fear to haunts his dreams and a truth that could drive him to despair. 

“What?” Vick’s voice is loud as his eyes go wide. “You said she was alive."

“She is." 

“Then why isn’t she here? What happened? What did you _do_?” There is panic and desperation in his expression. His words come out as a tumble - blaming Finnick for some unknown problem, worrying over Katniss, yelling at Mags. When he goes to move past Finnick and head back towards the Cornucopia, the man finally snaps and throws the boy over his shoulder. 

He carries Vick to the beach, literally kicking and screaming, and dumps him in the sand. 

“Look,” He hisses as he stares down the District Twelve tribute. “I’m not happy about the situation either but this was Katniss’ choice. She asked me to make sure you stayed safe so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to make sure that thick head of yours stays attached to your shoulders so she doesn’t have to worry about you while she’s out there," He throws his hand back towards the Cornucopia. Back towards the danger and Katniss.

“And what exactly is she doing _out there_?” Vick snaps. 

Finnick sighs. “What Katniss does best. She’s going hunting."

*************************

There hadn’t been anyone on the beach. Finnick hadn’t seen any signs on Johanna or the duo from Three, but he hadn’t had much time to look around. Once Vick had realized exactly what Katniss had done to him, to them both, he had turned and stalked into the forest. Finnick barely had time to swing Mags onto his back before Vick was almost out of sight.

Luckily, the dense foliage and steep incline slowed Vick down enough for Finnick to catch up. The Arena was made of thick, luscious greens, tall trees with high branches, and vines that stretched out to catch the feet of the careless. Between the vegetation, the oppressive heat and the seemingly perpetual hill, no one would be moving fast in this arena – not unless they were back on the beach, exposed and defenseless. This arena was designed to make it impossible to run anywhere. Once caught, tributes could either fight or die – just like the Captiol wanted.

Vick climbs and climbs, but never stops, setting a grueling pace for the terrain. He glances back every once in awhile, probably looking to see if Finnick was still keeping up. It takes a toll on both of them – more so Vick than Finnick. He can hear Vick’s labored breaths over the crunching of leaves underfoot. Anger radiates off the boy – at Katniss and at Finnick– and he doesn’t blame Vick. Hadn’t he been the same just two days ago?

Vick’s feet finally betray him, catching on an unseen vine and he falls. Finnick half expects him to get up and press on but he doesn’t. He lays there, gulping in large breaths. His face is flushed and sweat soaks his skin making it glisten.

“I hate her sometimes,” He chokes out, his words fighting against his heaving chest and what looks suspiciously like tears.

Mags slides down from Finnick’s back and he sits down next to Vick. “Me too."

“Why’d you let her do it?”

Finnick barks out a laugh. “Let her? You should know that no one lets Katniss do anything. She moves at her pace and everyone just tries to keep up," His mouth curves into a sardonic grin. “It’s one of the reasons we love her so much,"

Vick nods, wiping his hand across his nose. The black earth creates a larger smear across his cheek making him look so very _young_. “Idiots that we are."

“Better to be her idiot than not. Can you imagine if we got this worked up over Johanna? We’d be having heart attacks every time she looked at a Peacekeeper."

Vick rolls his eyes and stands up, trying to get all the dirt off him but it’s stuck to his blue suit and the effort just makes the mess worse. “So what’s the plan?”

“Find water and shelter. We need to be undercover before the hunt begins tonight."

“Do you really think they’ll be hunting us tonight with Katniss out there?” Vick asks.

Finnick shakes his head. “No, but I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire. We’ll find some place secure and in the morning we’ll find the rest of the group."

“The rest?”

“Johanna, Blight, Beetee, and Wiress. Jo’s supposed to go after them and meet up with us. I was hoping to catch them on the beach but I got sidetracked," Finnick gives Vick a pointed look and he, at least, has the decency to blush.

“Alright, so water, shelter and if we’re lucky, more allies. I guess that’s as good of a plan as any in here."

“Yes,” Finnick agrees, “And then once we’ve got everyone, we go after Katniss."

This startles Vick. “Go after Katniss?”

Finnick nods and pulls out one of the extra knives from his belt, handing it to the confused teen. “You were planning on sneaking away first chance you got anyways," Vick opens his mouth to say something but Finnick cuts him off, “Don’t lie," He had been trying to lose the Victors from Four all morning. Finnick didn’t think their little bonding moment would change that. Vick was smart, stubborn, and impulsive - just like Katniss. If he saw an opportunity to run he would take it - and unintentionally screw up all their carefully laid plans.

Vick eyes the knife curiously. “If you knew, then why give me a weapon?”

“No one should be unarmed in the arena. And if we’re going to find water and shelter before nightfall you’re going to need it to cut through this brush."

“You know, this would have been helpful at the base of the mountain."

Finnick smiles. “At the bottom, I wasn’t sure who you would have used that on, me or the plants."

“That’s….probably true." 

Vick glances up the hill and then turns and starts back the way they came, walking along the incline instead of down it. Mags follows him, snatching up a long stick to help her along. 

“Weren’t we going to the top?” Finnick asks. 

“I could see Johanna from my plate. She was back this way. There’s no guarantee that she went straight for the woods, but it’s better than wandering around lost hoping to run into someone who doesn’t want to kill us. Besides, even if we got to the top we probably wouldn’t be able to see much of anything in this dense foliage." 

He picks up a nut and chucks it into the woods, his mouth tilted down in a frown - like a child throwing a tantrum. It flies right back and slams into Vick’s shoulder. His surprised yelp echoes loudly in the wood and Finnick’s eyes scan the trees for movement instinctively. 

“What was _that_?” Vick picks up the charred nut and studies it. The blackened skins falls away easily and the inside steams softly. 

“A force field," Finnick says looking back up the mountain. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. The woods continued uninterrupted but the nut had bounced off the electrical field not two feet from them. 

“ _That’s_ a force field? When Beetee told me about it I just thought it was like a piece of hard to see glass. I didn’t think it would fry you!” Vick picks up more nuts and throws them at the invisible wall. They ricochet off again and as they bounce light cascades away from the point of impact like ripples in a lake. For a single moment, the woods are gone and barren land takes its place. 

“Good thing we didn’t keep going up,” Finnick mumbles. He reaches down and picks up a blackened nut. If the force field did that to a plant, he didn’t want to think about what it would do to the human body. 

Mags looks over his shoulder at the nuts and in one quick movement, snatches them, peels them and pops them into her mouth. Finnick’s mouth drops open as he watches her chew with a perfectly satisfied smile on her face. 

“You have no sense of self-preservation, do you?” 

Mags shrugs and shoves another skinless nut into his mouth. Finnick crunches down automatically. It’s still warm and the flesh breaks easily under his teeth. He waits for some indication that he’s about to fall down dead but nothing happens. 

“Are you trying to take me down with you?”

“Don’t worry,” Vick says, tossing some more at the force field. “These are harmless, I promise." 

His eyes track the ripples of light as they move across the field. Tilting his head back and forth he stares at the projected forest. “It’s just like Beetee said,” He throws more nuts at the electric wall and his points at the light as it moves. They move in a perfect circle until they scatter erratically, diverting around the flaw like a river moves around a rock. The light dissipates but the flaw remains.

“Look --” Vick starts, but Finnick throws a hand over his mouth silencing him. Oh, Finnick saw it. A patch of forest shimmers softly with a haze of rainbow light. As he stares at it, more and more small flaws appear and he can _see_ the wall curving up just over the tree line. This isn’t a trap from the Gamemakers, it’s the edge of the arena. 

Finnick leans close to Vick’s ear, “I see it, but we don’t want anyone else knowing that we can." If the Gamemakers knew they could see the field, who knew what attacks they would throw their way to keep that knowledge limited to the three tributes- four if you counted Beetee. 

Vick nods and Finnick lets him go. “Grab some nuts. We’ll use them to make sure we don’t walk into the that,” He shoots a thumb over his shoulder, “And we can make lunch while we walk." 

Vick grabs a handful and starts walking. Mag follows him, collecting the cooked remains. Finnick takes up the rear, searching for any signs of trouble.That’s how they continue until they hear the cannons. Eight in total. It took almost three hours for the initial bloodbath to end. 

Vick glances back at Finnick with a worried look. Eight deaths isn’t as bloody as some years but still, it’s eight chances that it could have been Katniss.

“She’s fine,” Finnick says, trying to ease his own worries as much as Vick’s. “Katniss is too smart to have stayed there long." 

“I hope you’re right." 

His voice is tired and Finnick can see the same exhaustion echoed in Mags’ face. She looks like she’s about to collapse. The heat and humidity drained them of all their energy and it was only getting hotter as they day wore on. If they didn’t find water, and find it soon, they would have problems.

They had been walking all morning and there hadn’t been any sign of water besides the lake of saltwater from the beginning. Nothing had changed at all, no landmarks of any kind, just dense forest as far as the eye could see. 

“You’ve noticed it too, huh?” Vick says, snapping Finnick’s attention back to him. 

“What?”

“We’re following the edge of the Arena but we aren’t traveling in a straight line. It’s a circle, a huge one filled with a jungle a lake at its center."

Mags sits down in a depressed huff. “No other water?” She mumbles, smacking her lips dramatically and it sounds as dry as Finnick’s throat feels. 

“There has to be fresh water somewhere," Finnick protests, leaning heavily on his trident. 

Vick raises an eyebrow. “Really? Are you so sure about that? Haymitch said these Games were racking up record high sponsorships. What if the only way to get water is through our mentors?”

That would certainly give the Careers an edge. They were the only ones that usually got enough sponsors for serious gifts. Tributes from the poorer districts usually got nothing since no one wanted to waste money on the scrawny, starved children. Water through sponsorship would remind everyone that his control stretched beyond the Arena. Their supplies, like the tributes, were only available to them through the good graces of the Capitol and if he wanted to, Snow could starve a district with a single word. 

Finnick shakes his head. No, Snow wouldn’t do that. Kill off the tributes too fast and there would be riots in the Capitol. He wanted them to fight and die according to his plan. If they all died of dehydration then he wouldn’t have his precious spectacle. 

“And the plants?” Mags asks. “Where’s their water?”

“She’s right,” Finnick agrees. “Trees this big need a fresh water source."

Vick looks up at the towering foliage - green and lush and very, _very_ healthy. “Of course they do," He gestures over to the plants behind him, “I’ve seen at least 25 types of plants - ferns, bromeliads, fungi, lianas - that can pull water from the very air and--” He stopped, eyes wide as he stares at the trees.

Finnick shoots Mags an inquisitive look. “What?”

“ _Lianas_ ,” Vick hisses and pushes past the other two to the closest tree, covered in thick, woody vines. “They have deep roots with an extremely efficient vascular system - and since they use other plants to reach the sun they don’t have thick bark for support."

“And why should we care?”

“Because,” He reaches up as high as he can and slices into a vine as wide as his forearm and then cuts through the vine at knee height, “It means that their entire girth is one giant hollow filled with _water_ ," Clear liquid gushes from the cut at the bottom - a solid stream that Vick kneels in front of and gulps greedily. It rushes fast and stops quickly but there are vines covering every tree in sight, plenty for each of them to drink their fill.

Finnick smiles, helping Mags slice open a vine before cutting open his own. The water is warm and sweet and even though he wraps his lips around the opening, half of it slips past before he has time to swallow it all. Still, it is the best damn water he had ever tasted.

*************************

The oppressive heat of the day keeps their pace slow. Finally, Finnick decides they’ve had enough. Mags’ energy had given out half an hour ago. He was carrying her again and even with his substantial energy reserves, Finnick could feel his arms tiring.

They pick a campsite close to the force field so they have a defense at their backs. Mags pulls some of the sharp grass that grows in five-foot-high tufts and begins to weave them together into mats. Vick perks up as he watches her work and eventually joins in while Finnick slumps against a tree. He dozes lightly while they weave, determined to sleep now so he can take first watch once night sets in. The Careers always go hunting at sunset and he wants to be wide awake in case they came this way. 

When he wakes up, Mags and Vick have transformed the place. The first thing he notices is the grass mat a few inches above his head. It blocks out the late afternoon sun, shading him and cooling him almost as much as his mouthfuls of water had. The makeshift roof is attached to three more mat walls, making a small grass hut that slopes down awkwardly on one side. Finnick leans forward, staring at the misshapen knots and smiles. Vick had tried so hard. 

A head pokes in the hut and Mags smiles at him. She gestures for him to move but when Finnick goes to settle back down instead she frowns. 

“Out," She says, pulling on his foot impatiently. When he doesn’t move she takes some extra grass and jabs him hard in the calf. Finnick yelps loudly - half determined to stay just to spite her and her overly pointy fingers - but moves when he sees the look on her face. At eighty, Mags might not have physical strength anymore but that didn’t make her any less of a formidable foe - and each one of her children, grandchildren, and surrogate family of knew when to fold. 

She hums appreciatively as he exits, making room for the final mat. It’s perfect little shelter for them, and Finnick has to admit, he’s impressed with how much work they were able to get done before nightfall. In addition to shelter, they had also made woven bowls, tight enough, he was sure, to hold water. Vick was working on another bowl, trying to mimic the ones that Mags had made and failing horribly. 

“Didn’t you learn anything at the knots station?” Finnick laughs, taking up some more of the gathered grass. Vick glares at him, an annoyed look that turns to pure outrage as Finnick quickly makes half a bowl before Vick finishes three more knots.

“I think I’ve decided I hate you too," He grumbles and turns his focus back down to his work, refusing to look up even as Mags dumps some freshly cooked nuts into his bowl. She slides next to him and holds out her finished creation, lined with leaves and filled with water out to him as a peace offering. 

Vick takes it and drinks deeply. “Her,” He hands back the bowl with a smile, “Her, I like."

Finnick smiles softly. “Most people do." 

Mags corrects Vick as he works and the two fall into soft conversation. She is good with Vick. With her large family, she’s had plenty of practice dealing with teenagers and Finnick’s grateful. Her soft words and continued projects take his mind off Katniss and their situation, at least for a little while. 

The sun sinks quickly and a full moon takes its place, illuminating the Arena with soft white light. As night descends, the conversation and the laughter stops. Everyone knows what’s coming. Finnick’s hand goes to the sea-green bracelet on his wrist and he braces himself. 

The sky brightens when the seal of the Capitol appears as if floating in space. The anthem sounds loud over the soft song of the jungle. He always hates the announcements but knowing that the people he’s about to see were his friends makes it all the more jarring. 

The man from District Five, the one Finnick killed on the beach is the first to appear. That means all the Careers are alive and that Katniss’ plan to take them out at the Cornucopia failed. It also means that Beetee and Wiress made it. That is a bit of good news, at least. He doesn’t know exactly why, but they are integral to their escape. 

The man from Five is followed by the male morphling from Six, Cecelia and Woof from Eight, both tributes from Nine, the woman from Ten, and Seeder from Eleven. The Capitol seal is back with music and it’s only then that Finnick lets out a breath. No Katniss. 

His chest loosens and Finnick can finally breathe again. “She’s alive."

“Yeah,” Vick agrees, but his eyes are glazed over. Finnick knows what he is thinking about - Cecilia's kids who hung off her as she was reaped, Seeder’s kindness, the morphling’s who drew designs in his food - all dead and gone. Finnick knew that and more about each of them. He knew the way Cecilia’s eye lit up when she talked about her children, how Seeder and Chaff would tease Haymitch as they drank. They had been his friends, comrades in arms as they all struggled together against the darkness born of the Games. 

At least their fight was done now. 

Mags is the first to move. Everything about her is stiff and tight as she makes preparations for the night. They have nothing but their weapons, and with no fire to tend to, the hut is readied quickly. She climbs in without a word and turns her backs on the boys, dealing with the victor’s deaths in her own way. Vick follows after, offering to take over for Finnick when he’s tired. 

Soon, the forest is silent save for the sounds of the jungle. The noise is alien compared to the crashing of the waves, but it still reminds Finnick of the ocean - both have a rhythm like the beat of a heart.

Every now and again the cadence is broken by the crack of a branch or the cry of an animal, but more often than not, it’s the tossing and turning from the hut behind him. After a few hours, Vick finally gives up trying to sleep and sits down next to Finnick.

“You should really be sleeping," Finnick says, but there is not real reproach in his voice.

Vick shrugs. “That’s not going to happen, not anytime soon at least," He sighs and leans back. “I had a hard time getting any sleep in the last games. Every time I closed my eyes I heard something that jerked me awake. I don’t think I got more than an hour’s worth of rest until I met Abigail. Having her around me feel safe - she even put up with my nervous chatter. Well, mostly."

“It helps, doesn’t it?” Finnick asks.

“What?”

“Talking. According to Katniss, you like to stay up with her when you can’t sleep."

“Yes. If I’m talking then I’m not sleeping, and if I’m not sleeping, I’m not dreaming," He glances at Finnick out of the corner of his eye, “But I’m sure you know all about that." 

He did. All the late nights on the phone with Katniss, her words chasing away the demons better than any lullaby. His hands tightened - one around the trident and the other around the knotting cord. Tonight the demons would be worse - tonight they could actually come out of the darkness and hunt them. 

Finnick wanted her here with him. She _should_ be here with him. His thumb stroked the raised sea-green knots currently in a geometric square design. It was too large for Katniss’ wrist though and he would likely scrap it. Besides, the sharp angles didn’t invoke the feeling he wanted. Perhaps something more floral in shape or rhythmic like the crest of a wave. 

_You and me and a cabin by the sea_. The words echo in his head, making her absence more acute. 

“Tell me about District Twelve’s Toasting,” He says and Vick turns to him surprised. “You said you wanted to talk, so tell me about Prim’s Toasting." 

“You were serious, weren’t you? In your interview, I mean."

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” Finnick swallows, suddenly nervous. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

Vick is silent for a moment and Finnick’s heart sinks. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Katniss before the Games, and even with everything, it had been the one nagging thought that his traitorous mind had clung to. In between the worries about Katniss being alive, them possibly walking into a Gamemaker trap, and other tributes in general, it had sprung up like an annoying itch every time he settled into a free moment. Would she say yes? Would she hate him? He had been sure she had come to him last night, but that wasn’t really an answer. 

“They went to the Justice building in the evening," Vick starts, unable or unwilling to give Finnick an answer. “Rory spent all day getting ready. He took three baths just to remove all the coal dust from the mines and mom trimmed his hair. He had saved up and bought a tie and jacket to go over his old reaping clothes, which was good since the shirt didn’t really fit anymore. He looked good, but Prim looked better. She wore her mother’s old wedding dress. It was cream with a buttercup ribbon tied around her waist,” Vick smiled softly, “I swear Rory stopped breathing when she walked down the stairs. They left and the rest of us to ready the house - setting out the cake and cutting the bread.

“When they came back they were married, at least in the eyes of the Capitol but no one really feels married in Twelve until they have their Toasting. The Toasting ceremony is simple: they make their first fire, toast bread, and feed it to each other. There are special words - pledges they make to each other and then we all sing the Toasting Song to celebrate. Except at Prim’s the only person singing was Katniss. Everyone forgot to join in once she opened her mouth. It was..." Vick’s voice trails off as he remembered. “It meant a lot, especially to Prim and Mrs. Everdeen."

Katniss singing. Now there was something Finnick had never even thought about before. It had never come up in their conversations before but now he wanted to know exactly how it sounded. He imagined it low and warm like her voice on the phone. 

He opened his mouth to ask when a bell tolls. _Bong! Bong!_ Finnick goes rigid as he looks in the direction of the noise. When it finally stops and the night continues on as if nothing happened. 

“I counted twelve,” Vick says. 

Finnick nods. Twelve. That was his count as well, but what did it mean? There were no messages, no words from Claudius Templesmith alerting a change in the rules. The only thing of note is a flash: a dazzling bolt of lightning that strikes a tree that seems to tower above the others. It’s a like a release and the following storm that ensues lights up the whole area. 

It’s close but the strangeness of the storm keeps them rooted. There is no thunder, no rain, and it doesn’t come closer. It just strikes the same patch of the jungle again and again. Vick looks just as confused as he does but neither of the move. The continuous lightning strikes illuminate the jungle, almost as if someone was shining a beacon light right on them. 

“Get in the hut,” Finnick whispers and they take cover under the grass roof, pushing Mags aside, who against all odds has slept through it all. While not the best camouflage, the grass walls blended in the with the foliage better than the bright blue of their suits. 

The two wait at the door - Finnick gripping his trident and Vick his dagger - waiting for something, anything to come barreling out of the jungle. The storm was clearly some trick from the Gamemakers and Finnick wasn’t about to be caught off guard. 

But nothing comes for them. Instead, after about an hour the storm stops.

Then the rain begins. 

What starts off as a gentle patter of droplets on the roof turns quickly into a torrential downpour and threatens to bring down the makeshift hut. The thunderous sound wakes up Mags and she is up instantly, holding the roof with the others to keep it from coming down on their heads. 

It’s hard to make out anything over the deluge. Sights and sounds are blocked by the torrent. The liquid seeps in through the cracks and Finnick can feel is sliding along his skin, through his hair, and down his face. It’s thick and hot with a distinctly metallic tang. It’s a smell he knows well. Blood. It is raining _blood_. 

It’s too dark to make out the others faces but he knows the moment that Vick realizes it. He jerks, almost dropping the roof on their heads but Finnick steadies him, holding the shaking boy close to his chest. This storm wouldn’t hurt them but it would be hell on the psyche. 

Finnick leans closer to comfort him but a flash of light draws everyone's attention. The ripples of light are instantly recognizable. Something, no, _someone_ , hits the force field. A body ricochets into the trees and lands. Hard. Even though he can’t hear them over the blood rain, Finnick knows the cannons have sounded. 

He reaches for his trident. The flash of light that killed had, for one instant, illuminated the rest of a group. Out in the forest, there were other tributes - three remaining of a group of four and Finnick had a good idea who they were. 

“Careers,” He hisses into Vick’s ears and the boy stills. “Stay here." 

Slipping out from their measly cover, he is instantly soaked through. The blood is in his eyes, ear, and mouth. He can taste it, feel it trying to choke him with every breath. It is even harder to see out here than it was from inside - and he glances back at the hut - that is a good thing. The roof had slumped down awkwardly without his support but covered as it was, the shelter is nearly invisible. If he died, the others at least had a good chance of remaining hidden. 

Nearly blind, Finnick makes his way slowly through the woods. He can hear shouting ahead but it is muted by the roar of the rain. Stopping, he presses closer to a tree and waits. Straining his ears, he can make out other noises: the crack of branches underfoot and the thud of metal as it connected with trees - and they were growing closer. 

Whoever was out there was moving towards him and the hut. 

Finnick crouches and changes the grip on his trident. When a crack sounds next to him, he spins around the tree and thrusts up. A cry of pain and the feel of his trident sliding into flesh is his reward for his patience. It wasn’t deep though and he pulls back for another attack. 

It goes sideways. 

Something blocks his thrust as reinforcements arrive. Whoever it is, they are good. Their arms slide around his, their legs fighting to get between his to trip him. He twists, pinning one of their arms between his chest and his trident and heaves. He hears a gasp as their feet leave the ground and sail head over heels back towards the force field. 

Finnick drops immediately, but there is no light, no body flying back towards him. Damn. He missed. Someone falls on him. The first or second person - or perhaps even the third? The tip of something sharp cuts into his shoulder as they push him backward. His trident is pinned between him and his attacker, making it impossible to use it for anything but a shield. He pushes back, trying to gain distance, leverage, _anything_ to give him the advantage but between rain slick ground and skin he finds none.

“Just fucking die,” His attacker growls, their breath ghosting across his face. 

“You first,” He replies. 

A sharp blade bites into his neck as they wrestle for dominance. Finnick trips over a root but wedges the tip of his trident in the ground to stay upright. It sinks in deep, finally giving him the leverage he needs. He wrenches it around and the attacker’s blade skids along the shaft. As his opponent slides forward, Finnick strikes, bashing his head into theirs with a satisfying crunch. 

Profanities fly from the other’s mouth - each more colorful than the last - and Finnick pauses. “Johanna?”

She doesn’t stop. Another fist flies and catches him in the jaw before he grabs her wrist. His legs come around hers and he rolls, pinning her against the ground, thrashing the whole time. 

“Dammit, Jo! It’s me. It’s Finnick!”

She stops and he can hear the hissed “fuck” pass her lips. She goes limp but he doesn’t let her go just yet.

“I almost killed your sorry ass," She says, her head relaxing into a pool of mud and blood.

He laughs. “You wish. I’m too pretty to die." 

Finnick releases her and rolls over. They lay there, shoulder to shoulder with chests heaving and wait until the blood rain finally stops.

*************************

“We’re lucky you missed," Vick hisses around a mouthful of leaves. Once the rain had stopped they saw the aftermath of the storm. Blight was dead. He had been the one to run into the force field. The other casualty was Beetee. Finnick had skewered him with his trident. With all the blood covering everyone they had to drag him down to the beach to wash him off so Vick could see the damage. There was a five-inch gash along his hip where Finnick’s trident had stabbed him. It had done more damage on the way out than in, but Beetee would survive.

Vick was right, they had been lucky. 

Beetee groans as Vick puts more of the makeshift poultice into the wound before packing it with moss and ties it tight with scraps of fabric that used to be the top of Beetee’s suit. 

“I’m surprised you were able to find that plant under all that blood," Finnick says, shifting his weight so he can lean a bit on his trident. While it had been essential for them to get to the beach, it was too exposed for him to be comfortable. Between Beetee’s wounds, the lack of cover, and the bright, white moonlight, they were easy targets. 

Vick checks Beetee’s pupils, pulse, and breath before deciding he could finally let his patient rest. Getting up, he wipes the sand from his hands in a futile effort to be clean. He was the only one who hadn’t had a chance to wash up yet. The small grains stubbornly stuck to the drying blood on his suit, making him frown. 

Vick glances back at the jungle and frowns. “There wasn’t any."

“What?”

“Blood. There wasn’t any blood in the jungle when I went back in. It was like it just disappeared. And that’s not all,” He shoots Finnick a concerned look, “I could see something in the distance - some kind of smoke or fog, I don’t know. It was thick and I couldn’t see past it. It moved down the mountain, not out or across but down like a river."

Just like the lightning storm, and, if Finnick’s suspicions were right, just like the blood rain. 

Mags and Wiress come up the beach, finally done washing with Johanna in tow. It had taken them awhile, but he was sure that most of their time had been spent getting Wiress to calm down. She was near hysterical, her eyes dilated with fear as she kept saying “Tick, tock. Tick, tock," Johanna had snapped at her, but it was clear the woman was in shock. 

She still mumbled as Mags sat her down with the group, but it was less frantic now. Vick stares at her, his head cocked to the side as if trying to figure out the secret message in her words. 

“Tick, tock," He mumbles back and Wiress’ head snaps to him, her eyes pleading. He looks back over the arena and then back at her. “Tick, tock. Tick, tock," He says again and then he’s up on his feet. “Oh! Tick, tock," Vick races to the water’s edge and, with his back to the Cornucopia, faces them. “My hands never rest but they run their race around, and around, and around my face with never a pause for a second or two because there’s no end to the work I do. But now and then, in the manner of men,” Vick raises his hands and points to the woods, “I strike, and strike, and strike again," He points at the area where the lightning storm was, where the blood rain was and then beyond them, where he saw the fog. Each section aligns with the wedges created by the spokes in the lake and then Vick laughs again. “It’s a _clock_. The arena is a clock!” 

Wiress smiles, her head lolling side to side to the beat of a silent song, “Tick, tock. Tick, tock," 

Vick continues on, high on the euphoria of the discovery. “Those bells - twelve total - marked midnight and each section of the circle represent an hour."

An hour. One hour of whatever horrors the Gamemakers had planned, and it was going to occur twice a day.

“So if we stay ahead of it, then we’ll only have to worry about the other tributes," Finnick says making Johanna scoff. 

“Only if he’s _right_." 

Vick glares at her. “We can verify the theory at noon. If the lightning storm happens again then we’ll know I was right." 

“So we’re just going to stay here? Out in the open where anyone can see us?” She looks at Finnick like he had just announced his undying love for one of his Capitol paramours. Somehow he had become the leader of their party and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. 

“Well, we can’t move Beetee," Vick snaps. 

Mags mumbles something, jutting her jaw towards the ocean. 

“She’s right," Finnick says, “There’s food and water here too.” 

Johanna throws up her hands. “So we’re just going to laze around like livestock waiting to be slaughtered? Real good plan there fish boy."

“I’m tired Jo, and I don’t feel like hiking all the way back up that damn mountain tonight. Do you?” She gritted her teeth but didn’t say anything. “There’s some cover just inside the treeline if you’re that worried. Besides, if the Careers try to come at us from that way,” He points to the right, clockwise around the Arena, “They are going to have their hands full. This is the best place to be, at least for now." 

“Fine, but if we get ambushed I’m using you as my own human shield."

*************************

No one sleeps past dawn. The blazing sun in the pink sky makes it too hard for that. Instead, Finnick and Mags get to work catching breakfast. The small salt lake is packed full of sea creatures and it’s easy for them to bring in a haul of shellfish large enough for the whole group.

Beetee’s awake by then, and everyone gorges on the sweet flesh. He talks quietly with Wiress, communicating in half sentences and codes that seem to make sense only to them. 

Vick tries to listen in but gets distracted. Ever since the dawn, Vick has watched the woods across the lake eagerly, looking for any indication of what horrors the jungle held for them. It was now late morning and his gaze tracks the wedges as the sun crosses the sky. 

Finnick follows his eyes but sees nothing - just the shimmering, static humming that never seems to stop. Then there came the screaming. Everyone was up on their feet in an instant. Across from them, a wedge of the jungle begins to vibrate. An enormous wave crests high on the hill, taller than even the trees and roars down the slope. It hits the water with such force that even across the Arena, the surf bubbles up to their makeshift camp. 

A cannon fires and a hovercraft appears over the area where the wave began. It plucks a body from the trees, limp and broken. It’s too far away, but even from here he can make out a mop of long blonde hair.

_Not Katniss._

“Ten," Wiress murmurs. 

“Hope it was a Career," Johanna says, shoving the flesh of another shellfish in her mouth as she sits back down. 

Vick shakes his head. “She means the time. It’s ten o’clock. I still can’t believe she figured it out."

Beetee smiles and reaches over to squeeze Wiress’ hand. “She’s smart, more than that she’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. It’s one of the reasons that we work together so well. She sees the problems before I do, but,” He smiles and lowers his voice, “I usually am the one to fix them." 

“Can you fix our current problem?” 

Beetee adjusted his glasses, more out of habit than need. “What problem?” 

Johanna snorts. “Pick one."

“The Katniss problem," Vick says, his eyes going back out to the woods. “We have to find her before she gets herself killed." 

Beetee looks over at Finnick, concerned. “I was wondering where she was. I assumed she would be here with you." 

Finnick shrugs. “You know Katniss."

“That is exactly why I thought she would be _here_."

“She decided that it would be better to go on the offensive. She’s trying to hunt down the Careers," Vick snaps. Drawing himself up, he wraps his arms around his knees - something he was doing more and more the longer they were here. 

“Ah,” Beetee says, once again pushing his glasses up his nose. “In that case, I’ve got the perfect solution."

“You do?” 

“Of course. Since it the likelihood of stumbling across Katniss is low, we will just have to make her come to us."

“And how do we do that?” Finnick asks.

“Simple. If Katniss has been tracking the Careers, then all we need to do is find them, or more accurately, help them find us."

“So,” Johanna says, a feral smile on her face, “You want us to be bait."

*************************

When fishing, bait only works if it is tempting - too tempting for fish to resist even if they know it is a trap. In the Arena, that means being to the one place with absolutely no cover and little chance of escape.

They were going back to the Cornucopia - and with only two fighters in a group of six, it would be easy for the Careers to sneak up on them and take out a few before Finnick or Johanna could react. 

Finnick is weary but Johanna is practically bouncing on her feet as they walk along one of the spokes to the golden horn. Eager - he realizes - she’s eager for battle. Her eyes lit up at the prospect of confronting the Careers. It reminded him of the way the tributes from Districts One and Two looked when they talked about the Games, but it wasn’t killing and death for the sake of it that excited her. It was the idea of killing _them_ \- dealing a blow to Snow and his plans. 

It reminded him of Katniss in the parade as she stared down Snow - confident and aggressive - but there was a hint of untamed rage that Finnick almost feared. Johanna was the only other one in their group who could really fight and if she threw herself at the Careers thoughtlessly that could change. He didn’t think he had it in him to watch over all four of the others by himself. 

The rest hang back, letting the two of them scout the area for potential dangers. They split when they reach the island, Johanna going left towards the opening, while Finnick turns right. 

The area looks untouched - abandoned after the bloodbath leaving soaked patches of sand to mark the final resting places of so many. It’s almost terrifying how much of the white sand is discolored. 

One particular dark spot at the edge catches his attention. In the brown crusted sand there is something that glitters in the bright sunlight. He leans over and pulls out a locket, clearly well worn and well loved. It opens easily and in it are four pictures cut to fit the circular frame of three children and one man. 

_Oh, Cecilia_. Finnick thinks. He recognizes the children from the Reaping. Once again feelings of anger and resentment swell in him. Seventy-Five years of Hunger Games. Seventy-Five years of watching friends and family die for no reason. 

_No more_.

A loud crash echoes from the Cornucopia as something metal collides with the side of the horn and Finnick drops the locket, running towards the entrance where Johanna is. He hears more noises - a smack of flesh hitting flesh and a grunt before...laughing?

“Damn Johanna, if that’s a love tap, then I don’t want to see you when you’re really mad!” Says a voice, warm and happy and more sober than usual. 

Finnick rounds the corner to see Johanna helping Chaff up off the ground as he rubs his jaw. 

Johanna smirks. “Stick around a bit, I guarantee you’ll get a front row seat to me taking out Snow’s pet dogs." 

“Chaff! What are you doing here?” Finnick says, embracing the man. The larger black man hugs him back, somewhat awkwardly since his only hand holds a large machete. Johanna immediately signals the all clear to the rest of the group before poking around the stockpile of weapons with singular determination

“I could ask you the same thing," Chaff says, looking over Finnick’s shoulder. His smile disappears when Vick comes into view. “A bit dangerous to be making a Cornucopia run, don’t you think?"

“Probably. What about you? Why are you here?” 

Chaff nods his head in greeting to the others before pointing his machete back out across the water, towards the 6-7 hour wedge. “I got ambushed by a mutt. I lost my supplies but I got out of there with my head thanks to Katniss."

Vick, who had been looking at weapons with Beetee looks up sharply, “You saw her? Was she alright?”

“Yes,” Chaff says, “She had a run in with some angry plants before she met me, but she was in one piece."

“Where?”

Chaff looks at the boy curiously. “Why?”

“The arena is a clock. Each section unleashes a Gamemaker’s trap for an hour," Vick pulls Chaff around the horn and points towards the tail and beyond where midnight wedge is. “And that is twelve, the lightning storm," His arm goes around like the hand of the clock, “The blood rain and some type of fog." 

Almost on cue, the lightning begins. Chaff’s eyes go wide and he looks from the sun to the storm to Vick then back again. 

“Well, I’ll be....Shit. Haymitch said you were smart but that’s just brilliant." 

Vick blushes. “Wiress is the one who figured it out." 

Chaff lets out a bark of a laugh that startles Wiress and Beetee who are hovering over a coil of wire and drawing something in the sand. “Who knew Nuts still had it in her?” He rubs the back of his head, still chuckling, “Well, if that’s the case then I guess the vines are probably right before the beast. Katniss said they started right around dawn." 

Vick quickly pulls out his knife and draws a circle in the sand, marking each and every hour they know. Half the Arena is still a mystery, but it was a start. Finnick looks back over his shoulder towards the 6-7 hour wedge. They still didn’t have an exact location for Katniss, but they had her last known location and it narrowed their search by half. 

Leaving Vick and Chaff, Finnick sits on the beach keeping watch. He knows that he should be on the lookout for the Careers, but each movement in the woods makes him hopeful. Just one glimpse of a braid, just one flash of an arrow to settle the worry in his stomach. 

In the distance, the lightning storm stops and the blood rain begins. The rain reaches wood’s edge - not one single drop lands on the sand - but he can see the whole section darken with the deluge. 

Next to him, the sands shift as Mags sits down. She hands him a shellfish, still dripping and wet. The seafood is probably the only cool thing in this arena and he feels the lack of shade acutely. 

“We need more," She says with a smile. 

Just the sight of the meat is enough to make his stomach growl. They had eaten a lot for breakfast, but that was hours ago. He glances back over his shoulder towards Johanna - now armed to the teeth with two deadly looking axes, a knife strapped to her ankle, and another to her thigh. She nods at him, “Grab us some food Fish Boy. I’ll take watch."

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He hands his net to Mags and dives into the water carrying only his trident. Nets are helpful in catching large amounts of fish or corralling them in the shallows but when diving, nets are just a hindrance. Speed and stealth are key and he could never achieve either with a net dragging behind him. 

Breathing deep, he pikes and dives straight down. Instinct kicks in and his body relaxes, his mind clears leaving only him and ocean. The water is a crystalline blue so clear that the floor of the saltwater lake come into focus almost instantly. Just like the shallows, it is filled with life: corals, sharks, triggerfish, and hogfish - his favorite. 

Finnick approaches the sandy floor and swims up to a clump of coral where he spotted a whole school of hogfish. He hovers, slowing his heartbeat as he waits for his shot. His trident, while certainly deadly, was to designed kill people, not fish. It was too thick, the head to wide to sail easily through the water like his smaller polespear back home. If he missed, the whole school would disappear into the reef. 

_There!_

The trident rockets through the water, skewering the small female hogfish on its outside prong. The rest of the fish scatter, and he tracks their direction as he ascends. At the surface, Mags is waiting for him with her feet in the water.

“Hogfish," He says and her wrinkled face blossoms into a wide grin. He hands her the fish and her skilled hands go to work immediately with a small knife that she must have found in the Cornucopia. 

He doesn’t stay to watch, just dives, again and again, bringing back more for their midday feast. Each dive is easier than the last, each catch faster and Finnick is almost loathed to surface. He stretches each out, enjoying the first sense of completely and utter peace he’s felt since the Games were announced. Life down here was easier, calmer, more focused. He knew that no one, not even the Snow could touch him on the ocean floor. 

Was this how Katniss felt in her woods? 

He surfaces with his catch, a male hogfish - almost twice as big as the females he had caught - and looks for Mags on the spoke but it’s empty. Fish bones and meat are still piled high and he stares at it confused for a second. Then he hears the cannon. _Boom!_

And then he sees the blood. 

It’s Chaff with a red smile painted on his neck. Standing over him is Cashmere. She’s two spokes over from him. A few steps behind her is the pair from District One running at full. 

And Vick, just sitting on the sand, staring at the crumpled form for Chaff. 

“Get into the Cornucopia!” Finnick shouts, even before he’s out of the water. The second his feet are on land the trident flies free from his hand. It misses its target but still forces Cashmere back into the water before she can reach for Vick. The boy complies, but not before taking a knife to the thigh. Gloss emerges from the water between him and Finnick, smirking over his shoulder. He has two more knives already in his hand and Finnick is too far away to do anything about it. 

Vick stumbles with a pained gasp and goes down but Mags and Beetee are there pulling him out of sight even as Johanna leaps over them and into the fight, hurling an ax as she goes. It sails wide as Gloss drops to the sand, rolling closer to Vick and farther from Finnick. 

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Johanna doesn’t pause. She charges Gloss and tackles him like a raging bull - all blind anger and no control. They wrestle at the water’s edge and beyond them, Finnick can see Cashmere pulling herself back up onto the spoke. Finnick curses, they are outnumbered four to two and with no sign of Katniss. 

He wants to help Johanna, but can’t. There are other Careers to deal with. He runs past them, grabbing Chaff’s machete, still grasped in his one good hand, and goes to intercept the two District One tributes as they make landfall.

Brutus and Enobaria work as a team, Brutus attacking from the right with a long sword and Enobaria from the left with a twin pair of deadly knives. They are good - so good that they should be unbeatable, but their moves are choppy. Enobaria can’t lift her arm high enough to block on the left and Brutus cradles his side, limiting the power of his swings. 

They are injured - and that is probably the only reason he’s still alive.

Every action is a reaction. His sword moves in smooth arcs as he defends purely on instinct and muscle memory. _Crash! Clang!_

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the flash of a dark braid and a silver bow before Cashmere goes down. 

_Katniss._

It’s now three on three. With Katniss’ bow, they finally have the advantage. Brutus and Enobaria know it, trying and failing to press the attack. Finnick holds his ground, moving away from Katniss to give her the clearest shot possible. Two more well placed arrows and for the first time in Hunger Games’ history, the Career pack would be completely wiped out in the first 48 hours. 

He’s not the only one to realize this. 

The ground jerks beneath Finnick’s feet and he's flung to the sand as the world begins to move. 

The island that holds the Cornucopia spins - fast. It pulls them out towards the water with such power that Finnick needs to dig his blade into the sand just to keep himself land-bound. The jungle passes in a blur. Bodies fly into the water and landing with large splashes. It’s impossible to tell who’s who, which spoke they landed in, and who they landed with. 

Just when the flying sands and dizziness get to be too much, the land slams to a stop. 

Queasy and disoriented, Finnick scrambles to his feet as fast as possible. Brutus and Enobaria are gone, so are most of the others. He spies Beetee and Wiress struggling to swim halfway between him and the beach but the others have vanished. 

Finnick is too dizzy to walk in a straight line and falls twice before slumping against the opening of the Cornucopia. It’s empty. Completely empty. Scattered like debris in the water all around are the weapons - most beginning to sink - and in the middle was Mags - paddling slowly but efficiently towards the nearest spoke. 

Finnick jogs over, keeping one eye out for the Careers and the other for Katniss. He reaches down and plucks Mags from the water as if she weighs nothing - and really, at eighty she doesn’t - before noticing that she still had the net tied around her waist and clutched tightly in one hand is a golden trident. 

“You are brilliant!” Finnick says, pressing a loud kiss to her cheek. He goes to work on the net the knotted on her waist but is stopped by her insistent hands pressing him backward.

Her face is contorted in worry. She points back over his shoulder and he turns. Both is heart and lungs stop all at once. On the beach is Vick, who hobbles into the trees followed closely by Cashmere with a silver arrow still sticking out of her shoulder. A few steps behind her is Katniss and closing in on the group from the other direction is Gloss. 

Finnick is already running, his feet flying across sand and stone but he won’t get there before Gloss. It was going to be two against one and Katniss hadn’t even noticed the other Career. 

“Katniss!” He shouts, trying to alert her but she doesn’t hear. Gloss does. He puts on a burst of speed that has Finnick cursing even as his lungs burn. 

A scream - screeching, high and entirely inhuman - pierces the air. The jungle, wherever Vick stumbled into is the active area. The shrieking intensifies and over it, a cannon sounds. 

_Boom!_

The sound is like a shot. It hits hards, making Finnick stumble. 

_Katniss_. He couldn’t see her anymore. She had vanished into the jungle. His brain screams her name over and over again, filling his mind with horrible visions of her death. Gutted. Beheaded. Stabbed. _No_. That cannon couldn’t have been for her. It was for Cashmere. It was for --

_Vick_. The one person the rebellion needed, the reason they were trying to get the tributes out of there. Not only that, but Vick was his friend. What did it say about him that Finnick was hoping that Vick was the one who died instead of Katniss? 

_Selfish_. That is what he was. _Stupid. Selfish. In love._

Gloss makes it to the jungle first and is knocked back by a mass of orange fur. Two more emerge from the foliage as Gloss kills the first with his knife, tossing the corpse over his shoulder. The creatures move fast - unnaturally so, flying down from vines and leaping impossible distances. With fangs bared, hackles raised and claws shooting out like switchblades they resemble monkeys but it is easy to see what they really are: mutts. 

Finnick turns up the beach, into the greenery to dodge the battle behind him. The jungle isn’t much better. There are too many mutts, more than he can count and they are all focused on something up ahead. 

He takes out two before they notice him. At first, there are only a few, but once the smell of blood and sounds of death start, more come. Like a wave of fur they descend on him. Again and again, his trident drives forward, piercing flesh before drawing back and letting the corpse fall before moving to the next target. 

_Boom!_ Another cannon. _Gloss_. Finnick tells himself, as he flings the body of one monkey into another that lunges out of a tree. Its claws dig into his back and shoulder, tearing fabric and flesh alike before he slams back into a tree, crushing the monkey. He slips a knife from his belt and drives it deep into the monkey’s gut.

He turns, ready for the next attack but there is none. The monkeys withdraw back up the trees, into the bushes, fading into the jungle was if some unheard voice calls them away. A Gamemaker’s voice, telling them it is enough. The hour is up. 

As they vanish Finnick spies figures over the trampled greenery - both with olive skin and dark hair.

It’s Vick and Katniss. And they are _alive_.


	12. Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Look I'm not dead! I got involved with writing a story for a Big Bang event in another fandom and have been furiously writing my own story and beta-ing three others this summer. Thankfully it's done and I just have to post it now! Whew! That means I finally had time to sit down and finish this chapter. 
> 
> I'm sure you all will recognize chunks of this chapter. That's because I wanted to include the Lightning Tree escape so I didn't want to change it too much. This is the only time my story will coincide so closely with Suzanne Collin's so don't despair! More original story lines coming your way soon. 
> 
> I hope you all like this chapter. As promised, there are plenty of Katniss and Finnick moments here to make up for the last chapter. 
> 
> As always, all comments and critiques are welcome. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns everything.

Finnick leans heavily on Katniss as they move down the beach to meet Johanna and the others. Behind him, Vick limps along, looking at his hands, up at the sky, and then back again. He is rattled and Finnick feels bad for the boy. Even in the last Games, his encounters with people trying to kill him had been minimal. In the last 30 minutes, he had watched Chaff die, been stabbed, thrown across the Arena, chased along the beach, attacked by mutts, and then witnessed a woman sacrifice herself for him. 

That had been the second cannon. The first had been for Cashmere. The second was for the morphling from District Six. She had saved Vick from the monkeys. In return, he had held her, whispering to her about the beautiful plants he worked with until she had passed. 

Behind him, Finnick can hear the soft whir of the hovercraft coming to claim her body. 

“Gloss ran off. Looked in pretty bad shape too,” Johanna informs them, drawing Finnick’s attention back to the group, “Not that you look any better.”

Finnick tries to straighten but collapses quickly again, grateful for Katniss’ support.

_Or just Katniss in general._

“And the others?” Katniss asks, sitting him down and riffling through a small pack attached to her hip. 

“No idea.” Johanna frowns - concerned more for him than the location of the Careers. 

“Come on Jo, it’s not that bad,” Finnick jokes. He tries to laugh but it comes out as more of a groan. 

“It is,” Katniss snaps, “There’s a lot of blood, Finnick.”

“They’re just surface wounds, I promise.”

Her lips curl in a decisive pout. It was the look she always got when she thought he was being stupid. 

“What about you Vick?” Finnick asks, trying to divert Katniss’ attention. The wince on her face as she shoots a glance at the boy makes him regret the decision. 

Vick blinks distractedly like he’s trying to translate Finnick’s question into English. “What?”

“Your leg,” Katniss presses, now turning to look at him too. “Are you alright?”

“Oh.” He rubs his leg, wincing. He looks at it like it’s the first time. “Yes. It’s not that deep.” He mutters something about making a poultice and turns back to the jungle before Katniss catches him by the arm. 

“I can do it,” She says, pushing him down next to Finnick in the sand. She pulls a small pouch from the pack at her waist and opens it. 

“What’s that?” Finnick asks, trying to move to get a better look, but quickly realizes it is a bad idea as the drying blood on his back pulls at his raw skin. 

“A present from Haymitch.”

“Katniss,” Vick breathes, focusing for the first time since the Morphling’s death, “That is a high-class first aid kit. It must have cost him a fortune.” He dives forward and grabs her by the arm. His eyes are wild as he looks over her with frantic desperation. “What happened?” 

Annoyed, Katniss pushes him back. “I’m fine Vick.” 

“But you weren’t.” 

She doesn’t argue with him. Her arms wrap around her waist in a protective manner, and just past them Finnick can see the white of a bandage poking out through a hole in her suit - and it’s not the only one. Finnick hadn’t noticed them before, but there are two more on her legs. The fabric is ripped across her thigh and calf, in large sweeping gashes of three. 

_Claws._ Those were claw marks. 

She notices his eyes on her and she looks away. “It was a mutt. It caught me sleeping.” She breaths out, her gaze unfocused as she relives the event. Her arms tightened around the middle before she winces and shakes her head. “Haymitch sent me that. I patched myself up. End of story.” 

Vick wasn’t convinced. “You should still let me take a look.” 

“No,” Her voice was firm, “We need to bandage your leg.”

Finnick could feel the fight brewing. Between his beat up back and the headache forming, he wasn’t in the mood to listen to it. 

“If Vick doesn’t want to get fixed up, then can I?” He asks, trying to keep his tone jovial. “I’ve always wanted to have you play nurse.” He reaches up and takes Katniss’ hand. Katniss rolls her eyes but he could see the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“You’re fine if you can say stupid things like that.”

Finnick pulls her hand closer and places a kiss on the inside of her palm. “It’s not stupid. It’s a secret dream of mine - having your hands on me, caressing my--” Finnick cuts off with a hiss and glares over his shoulder at Vick. The boy had _poked_ him!

Vick glares right back. He holds his hand up, daring Finnick to continue. “I don’t need that mental image.” 

Finnick smirks. “Poor baby. Did I offend your delicate sensibility?” The comment only earns him another hard jab. He winces and adds, “You really need to work on your bedside manner.”

“I don’t know, I think he’s doing a great job,” Katniss quips. 

“Traitor,” Finnick hisses and tries to pull her in closer - plotting a revenge filled with wandering fingers traveling over ticklish skin - but she escapes, sharing a laugh with the other District Twelve Victor that Finnick knows is entirely at his expense.

****************************

Finnick weaves another water basket and net for fishing as he watches Katniss and Mags wade in the shallows. Mags is teaching Katniss how to fish, and Finnick had to admit that he was more than just a little jealous. Due to his wounds, Vick had ordered him to stay on the beach so he was delegated to preparing more fishing supplies.

Finnick would have thought that weaving would have hurt more. Making baskets was not like tying knots, it was a whole body affair. He had expected a shooting pain as he pulled the long grasses into tight, circular constructs, but there was none. Katniss had been right. Whatever Haymitch had sent her was good - better than good. Finnick’s back was numb to the point he had almost forgotten he had any injuries. 

Which only made staying on the beach that much harder. 

Katniss struggles at first, but slowly her years of hunting begin to show. Her gaze is intent as she watches the fish move in the water, holding perfectly still with practiced patience until they are scooped up into her net in a swift motion. Soon the fish start to pile up and Katniss and Mags are forced to stop to help him prepare the food. 

The sun drops below the horizon as they work. The bright moon is already on the rise, filling the arena with a strange twilight. They are almost done when the anthem begins. Then there are the faces. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Katniss’ tense, her hand gripping the blade of the knife so hard her knuckles whiten. He reaches, placing his hand on hers, but her eyes are glued to faces in the sky. 

Cashmere. The woman from District Five. The morphling who gave her life for Vick. Blight. The man from Ten. Chaff.

So Gloss really did get away. That meant three Careers were still out there and Gloss would probably want revenge for Cashmere. He had always been close with his younger sister - protective as much as he could be. Finnick had seen the way he would watch her at the parties, a fury barely restrained by Snow’s leash. 

He wonders what Snow held over them to get Gloss and Cashmere to continue to follow him. 

“They are really burning through us,” Johanna says.

“Who’s left, besides us and the Careers?” Finnick asks. 

“No one,” Vick says. His eyes dart over to Katniss, and Finnick can see the wheels turning in his head calculating the benefits of staying. Katniss, if she notices his look doesn’t acknowledge it as she skewers a piece of fresh fish meat and eats it whole.

A parachute arrives, catching the light of the moonlight in its reflective canopy. 

“Bread,” Katniss says as she opens the small silver parachute. She tosses one of the small rolls to Beetee. “It’s from District 3 right?”

“Oh yes,” He inhales the scent of the bread greedily. “It smells like home.” 

“How many are there?” Finnick asks, even as he grabs the bag and starts counting. Twenty-four, including the one Beetee had already devoured.

He counts them one more time before he lets Katniss hand them out. 

District Three meant day three and the twenty-four rolls meant midnight. The breakout would happen tomorrow at midnight. How he still didn’t know, but he had a good idea who did. He glances over at Beetee and Wiress, once again huddled together and talking softly. 

They are so engrossed in their conversation that neither protests as Johanna takes what’s left of their share.

****************************

They wait until the giant wave has flooded out the ten-to-eleven-o’clock section and then go to that beach to make camp once the water recedes. That should give them twelve hours of relative safety - or at least no gamemaker traps until daybreak. There’s an unpleasant chorus of clicking from an insect in the next wedge over that keeps them up. Katniss and Johanna stand watch, each armed to the teeth just in case some stray mutt tries to venture into their section.

Whatever is making the sound stays confined to the jungle, tapering out into silence before the crack of lightning heralded the midnight hour.

Content, Johanna tosses her axes into the sand and sprawls out next to them. “The lovebirds can take the first watch.”

“Thanks for volunteering us Jo,” Finnick says, rolling his eyes. That he was going to suggest the same thing was beside the point. 

Vick hesitates before Mags pulls him away to sleep against the base of a tree. There was a lovely patch of moss there that would make an excellent pillow. Katniss watches Vick go before settling in next to Finnick, facing the jungle while he looked out over the water. 

“He’s not going to sleep,” She says, her eyes still on Vick. 

Finnick shakes his head, “I think he will now that you’re here. He hasn’t really slept since the Games started. He’s been too worried.” 

She turns to look at him, “And you?” 

“A complete disaster, but I don’t think anyone noticed.” He reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m just glad we’re together again.”

“Me too.” 

“And that you aren’t leaving again.” 

Katniss sighs, her eyes drift back over to the awkward clump of sleeping victors. Wiress had joined the others on the moss and curled up in between Vick and Mags. “Vick wants to.” 

“Will he leave?”

She shakes her head. “Not unless I do. I think I can convince him to stay at least until the Careers have been taken care of.” 

“And then?”

“...I don’t know.” And, as so many times before, Finnick watches as she brings her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself and away from the world. Did she know that this time tomorrow they would be out of here? Had Haymitch told her the signal?

He wants to tell her that it is going to be alright, that in twenty-four hours all of them would be free - from the Arena, from the Games, from Snow - but he knew he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he reaches out to her, intent on holding her until all these thoughts ebbed for the night - but he noticed her fingers worrying at something. 

“What’s that?”

Katniss stops, clutching the object tighter in her hand. She bites her lip and he can see the blush that spreads across her cheeks and down her neck before she unfolds her hand. There, sitting in her palm is a small, cream pearl. 

Finnick can’t help the laugh that bubbles out past his lips as he plucks the skin warmed jewel from her. Out of everything she could have brought with her - her golden mockingjay pin or a broach with Vick’s berries - she chose this. She chose them - and was embarrassed about it. Adorable. 

He holds it up to the sky, letting the natural luminescence of the pearl shine in the moonlight. Pearls are amazing things. They form when something - usually a parasite - works its way into a mollusk. In its defense, the shellfish coats it with fluid, layer after layer until a lustrous pearl is formed. 

In many ways, he and Katniss were just like the pearl - their future was a beautiful defense against an outside aggressor. 

His eyes widen and he palms the pearl as he quickly unties the knotting cord wrapped around his wrist. He pulls out everything he had worked on and starts again. 

“What are you doing?” Katniss asks, peering at him from over her shoulder. 

“In District Twelve, you have a Toasting - bread, songs, vows - “ She looks shocked and he smiles, mentally thanking Vick for that bit of information. “Well, in District Four we have a Knotting Ceremony. A long time ago, people used to exchange rings but those were easily lost or damaged by the salt water so the fishermen and their wives began exchanging rope bracelets instead. The tradition stuck, so now couples make unique bracelets for each other from a single piece of rope, to show that their future is tied together.”

Finnick tightens a few loops and creates a small, secure pocket for the pearl. Taking Katniss’ wrist he places it there, wrapping it around a few times. What he had so far was fairly formless and, if he was being honest with himself, messy but Annie had chosen well. No matter how poor a knot, the green stood out like sea glass against Katniss’ dusky skin. It looked perfect. It looked right. It looked like it belonged there.

It _did_ belong there.

Katniss touched the cord reverently, tracing the knots and the pearl with a small smile on her face before it drops. She stares up at him intently. “You said ‘they make bracelets for each other’. Does that mean the would be wife is expected to make one of these too?”

Finnick laughs, “That _is_ tradition Katniss.” 

She frowns. “It’s a horrible one. Yours is going to look awful.” 

Finnick loved making knots - but he knew that they didn’t come easy for Katniss. That she was worried about it was priceless. He would be happy if she just tied the plain string around his wrist. It was the symbolism that matter, not how fancy the final product was. 

He leans forward, brushing his lips gently across hers. “Can I take that as a ‘yes’?”

“I don’t know,” She says, pulling back ever so slightly, “Did you ever ask?”

“I, uh...” Finnick pauses and thinks back to the interviews. No, he hadn’t actually asked. It had been more of a statement instead of a question, but it had been implied. He never thought she would need it worded so traditionally, but he wouldn’t deny her, even if he could tell she was joking. Indulging her was easy, especially when she asked for something so small. Shifting, he turns to face her fully and takes both her hands in his. “Katniss Everdeen, will you --” 

He’s cut off by her lips. The kiss is demanding and almost desperate - pulling him deeper into any time he tries to retreat. Struggling against her is like trying to break free of the undertow - and he doesn’t mind being dragged under. It was a dream - the sounds of gently lapping waves, the feeling of coarse sand sliding across soft skin - one he would drown in if he could. 

He shifts, kissing her jaw, neck, ear. He runs his lips teasingly over the shell of her ear, whispering, “If you want a proper proposal, you have let me speak.” She pulls him tight against her, shivering - no, _shaking_. He could feel the tremors in her hands as she pressed them into his back. 

Katniss was scared and this time he didn’t have a sweater to wrap around her. 

“Don’t. Please.” Her voice is soft, but he feels every word crash through him. “Not here.”

Not here. He tells himself, Not ‘No’. 

Swallowing his disappointment he nods. He didn’t care about the Games, didn’t care that the world knew he wanted to marry Katniss Everdeen. As far as he was concerned, they were already out of Snow’s reach. His eyes are firmly set on the future. This was the difference between them: he was strengthened by a promise of tomorrow while she was weakened by it. When he saw promise, she only saw everything that she could lose.

“Alright,” Finnick says, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Just let me know when.”

****************************

Too bright sun and the feeling of pooled sweat pull Finnick back into the waking world. He fights, burrowing deeper into the remnants of a lingering dream and the delicious, delirious feeling of happiness that he knew was connected with Katniss. It was an absurd thing to feel at all in the Arena, but with how the last two days have gone he clings to the sweetness for a few moments.

He reaches out for her, but the sand next to him is empty. Finnick finally opens his eyes letting in reality, complete with gritty sand, hot sun, and sticky sweat. Groaning, he rolls onto his back and blocks the sun with his arm.

Something bites into his cheek and he pulls away, noticing for the first time the sea-green bracelet that was once again tied around his wrist. It’s bigger than it was before - the pearl and his knots are untouched, but a whole slew of new ones have been added at the other end. 

They are a tangled mess of rope - some sections too tight and others too loose - but he loves them because he knows exactly who put them there. Finnick presses them to his lips, to an effervescent smile that takes over his whole body until he is sure he is glowing brighter than the sun. 

“That is definitely a ‘yes’, Katniss,” He laughs. It was a concession he knew - an apology for last night and he would take it. Whatever she was willing to offer him he would take, for now at least.

Everyone was already up and watching the descent of a parachute to the beach. Finnick joins them, still beaming as he takes Katniss’ hand and places a kiss on the back. It’s another delivery of bread, identical to the one from the night before. Twenty-four rolls from District Three. A confirmation that the plan - whatever it is - is a go. 

After they eat, Katniss pulls Vick to the water under the pretext of teaching him how to swim. Everyone knows though what they are really talking about - Finnick can tell in the tense silence, broken only by Wiress’ mumbling as she runs some type of calculation in her head. 

It makes Finnick wonder just how much everyone knows about what is going on. 

The two stay in the water for a while, and it appears that Vick actually does learn how to swim a bit - at least better than he did at the beginning - before Beetee calls them over. It turns out that after all those hours of fiddling with the wire, he has indeed come up with a plan. 

“I think we’ll all agree our next job is to kill the last of the Careers,” he says mildly. “I doubt they’ll attack us openly again after their last failed attempt.” He glances over at Finnick, Katniss, and Johanna, looking as dangerous as their weapons. “We could track them down, but with the Gamemaker’s traps it is more dangerous than helpful.”

“Do you think they’ve figured out about the clock?” Katniss asks, her eyes scanning over the Arena. 

“If they haven’t, they’ll figure it out soon enough. Perhaps not as specifically as we have, but they must know that at least some of the zones are wired for attacks and that they’re occurring in a circular fashion. I think our best bet will be setting our own trap.” 

“Didn’t we already try that?” Johanna asks. “I seem to recall it didn’t work out that well.” 

“Since our goal was to find Katniss, I think we succeeded, but that’s beside the point.” Beetee shoos them all a back a bit so he can have room to work in the sand. He swiftly draws a circle in and divides it into twelve sections. It’s the Arena. “If you were the Careers, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?”

“On the beach,” Vick says. “But we’re here.”

“Exactly. We’ve claimed the beach. Now, where would you go?” Beetee asks, leading them towards some realization in particular. It’s not patronizing, more like a school teacher trying to ease children into a lesson. 

Mags points at the bush just beyond their shoulders. She opens her eyes wider with her fingers and stares at all of us. 

Finnick nods. “At the edge of the woods to spy, but also for food. If they’ve watched us they know the seafood is safe, especially compared to whatever strange creatures there are in the jungle.” 

Beetee smiles as if they’ve exceeded his expectations. “Yes, good. You do see. Now here’s what I propose: a twelve o’clock strike. What happens exactly at noon and midnight?” 

“The lightning bolt hits a tree,” Vick says.

“Yes. So what I’m suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down into the salt water, which is, of course, conductive.”

“Zap, zap, zap,” Mutters Wiress as she draws a zig-zag line all around the edge of the wedge. “Movement of electrical charge. Electrons moving, bumping, looking for a way out. There’s always a way out. There’s...” Her voice trails off as her gaze drifts up and away. 

“Exactly,” Beetee inserts as if the rest were supposed to understand Wiress’ thought process. “When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the ten o’clock wave. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that moment will be electrocuted.”

There’s a long pause while they all digest Beetee’s plan. It seems almost fantastical, impossible even. How could the lightning travel across the whole beach? Finnick has seen storms on the sea, even watched them from the beach, and been fine. 

He watches Wiress who watches the sky. She’s started drawing something with her fingers in the air, muttering again about electricity. She notices his gaze and smiles. “It’s up there.” 

“What is?” 

She doesn’t answer and Finnick looks over at Katniss, but she is just as confused as he is. 

“Will that wire really be able to conduct that much power, Beetee?” Vick asks. “It looks so fragile like it would just burn up.” 

“Oh, it will. But not until the current has passed through it. It will act something like a fuse, in fact. Except the electricity will travel along it,” Beetee says. 

“How do you know?” asks Johanna, clearly not convinced.

“Because I invented it,” says Beetee, as if slightly surprised. “It’s not actually wire in the usual sense. Nor is the lightning natural lightning nor the tree a real tree. You know trees better than any of us, Johanna. It would be destroyed by now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” she agrees glumly.

“Don’t worry about the wire - it will do just what I say,” Beetee assures them. 

_Like it was made for this._ The wire, the lightning, the tree, Finnick’s trident. There are too many gifts for it all to be a coincidence. How long had this revolution been in the works? 

What else was there Finnick didn’t know?

“And where will we be when this happens?” asks Katniss.

“Far enough up in the jungle to be safe,” Beetee replies. 

“The Careers will be safe too, then, unless they’re near the water.”

“That’s right.”

“So how do we get them there?” She continues, “You’re assuming that they will just go to the beach the second we’re out of sight.”

“Wouldn’t you?” He asks, adjusting his glasses. “If you hadn’t eaten in two days and the only real source of food was finally available to you, wouldn’t you go straight for it? Humans are reactive creatures, especially under stressful conditions. I believe they will behave in a predictable fashion, and if they don’t and this fails, there’s no harm done. If doesn’t, then there’s a decent chance we’ll kill them all.”

“Them and the fish,” Finnick says.

“Good thing we’ve got so many sponsors then,” Vick says, glancing at the two rolls he saved from his share of the bread this morning. 

Finnick looks at Johanna, and the two then look at Katniss. She is closest to Haymitch, she knows more about the plans than he, and likely Johanna does. If this really is their way out, if he’s really not over thinking this, then...

“Alright,” She says finally, “It’s better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway.”

Johanna leans back, her hands behind her head. “I doubt they’ll figure it out since we can barely understand it ourselves.”

****************************

The lightning tree is unmistakable as it towers high above the canopy. Vick finds a bunch of nuts and makes everybody wait as he tosses them up the slope. The reaction is immediate – waves of light, a hiss, and the ricochet of a crispy nut towards the group. The force field is only about fifteen feet away, close enough to the tree to be dangerous if people aren’t careful.

Beetee and Wiress get to work immediately, examining the tree. The transformation is immediate. Wiress – broken, childish Wiress’ eyes are focused and alive – and Beetee, though still moving gingerly, is too immersed in the work to notice. All of Wiress’ strangeness – her muttering, her half finished sentences and use of children’s songs - are taken in stride by Beetee, like they are talking a private language that only the two of them understand. For the first time, the two are in their element and Finnick can see why the Capitol talks so highly about their inventions. The pair has been together for years – partners and friends sharing a passion that repairs them.

Finnick’s eyes stray towards Katniss. He knows something about that.

While they work, Katniss and Vick tap water. Apparently, Haymitch had sent Katniss more than just a first-aid kit, he had sent her a spile to access the water in the trees. Mags gathers nuts and tosses them at the forcefield, both preparing lunch and giving them a constant reminder about the location of the forcefield. This leaves Finnick and Johanna on guard duty – and with how much light and sound they are making, he’s sure they are easy to find.

The ten o’clock wave comes and goes and soon the sound of clicks rises from the sector adjacent to them. Whatever is unleashed at eleven is far louder in the jungle than it was on the beach the previous night.

“It sounds like insects,” Vick mutters, his hands rubbing along his arms absently.

Finnick raises and eyebrow. “You don’t like bugs?”

Vick frowns and looks away. “Things aren’t supposed to have that many legs.”

The sound swells as if alerted by their words – smelling the fear radiating off of them, signaling the proximity of live flesh. Whatever is making that clicking could probably strip their bones in seconds.

“Right now, I have to agree with you” Finnick mumbles, taking a step or two back.

“We should get going,” says Johanna. “There’s less than an hour before the lightning starts and then bugs will be the least of our worries.”

They don’t go far. Only to the identical tree in the blood-rain section. They squat and wait, no one really resting, even as they snack on nuts and some type of rodent that Katniss found in the woods.

Their lunch is abruptly stopped as the lightning appears. From here, the event is as bright as the sunlight, bathing their patch of jungle in brilliant, white light that floods even the darkest patches of shade. The air crackles and makes the hair on Finnick’s arm stand on end, and even though they know that the Gamemaker’s traps are isolated to a given wedge, they move their picnic slightly further away.

They take a circuitous route back to the ten o’clock beach – covered in debris from the woods, carried out by the tidal wave. Beetee and Wiress work with the wire while the rest clear a small area to rest, mostly just to keep busy since there is nothing for them to do while the victors from District Three work.

Still not cleared for the water, Finnick is forced to wait on the beach while Katniss and Mags fish. He doesn’t watch, too envious to actually enjoy it, and closes his eyes. Sleep is elusive, but the lapping of the waves at his feet help. 

He feels the sand next to him shift and he cracks open an eye. It’s Vick, but he doesn’t look at Finnick. 

“Help me understand why,” Vick says, his focus on the two women in the water, “Why did you do it?”

Finnick frowns, propping himself up on his elbows. He can feel the sand stuck to his skin and knows that trying to clean it off the bandages will be difficult.

“Do what?” He asks. 

“The proposal.” Vick turns to look at him. “I thought it was all a ploy to get more sponsors but you were, are, serious. Why? You knew you were coming here, that there is a good chance you’ll die or she’ll die or you’ll both die.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t get it.” 

Finnick smiles softly. “Having a dream to look forward to is better than focusing on the nightmares of the past.” He shrugs. “Besides, I thought she’d be more likely to say yes if I didn’t ask her with the blood of our enemies splattered all over my face.” 

Vick laughed, “I heard some women find that attractive.”

“Only in District Two.” 

“So,” Vick says, turning his attention back to the two women in the sea, “Did she? Say ‘yes’, I mean.” 

Finnick raises his arm, looking at the small, messy knots wrapped tightly around the secured pearl. “Close enough.” 

A shadow falls on Finnick’s face and both men look up to see a small parachute falling from the sky. It bears two gifts: a red spicy sauce that makes Finnick very excited and 24 more rolls from District Three. 

“You are in for a treat!” He says, tossing the small jar of sauce at Vick. All they needed now was some lemons and they would have a veritable feast on their hands. He looks back out over the water and sees Katniss and Mags returning, their fishing baskets filled to the brim. “And just in time too.”

****************************

After they eat, there is nothing else to do but wait until dark. The anthem begins shortly after sunset but there are no faces in the sky. No deaths usually mean the Gamemakers will send some new horror to entertain the audience, but everyone is probably too eager to see if Beetee’s plan would work. Bets and money would be flowing in the Capitol and anything to disrupt that would be met with harsh reprimands.

“Let’s begin,” Beetee says, standing and brushing the sand off his pants. Wiress follows closely, glancing up at the sky more than the ground in front of her. She sings softly as she walks and everyone follows like obedient children. 

The Arena is still hot and humid, but Finnick feels chills run up his spine in excitement as the tree comes into view. This was it, their gambit. If this didn’t succeed then there was only one possible outcome. His eyes dart toward Katniss instinctively. She is ahead of him, walking with Johanna. Even though there was no sign of the Careers, she still walks with her bow in one hand and the other free to reach for an arrow.

This had to succeed. It just _had_ to. 

At the tree, Beetee asks Vick to help him. Everyone else stands guard. Vick secures one end tightly around a broken branch a few feet away before the three of them start. Wiress directs Vick as he and Beetee pass the spool around the tree, wrapping the wire tightly around the trunk. It seems arbitrary, but in the moonlight, a silver maze begins to appear. Anything that is slightly off is adjusted by Wiress as she dances around the trunk, humming and mumbling to herself as she presses the wire into detailed patterns. 

Finnick doesn’t know much about electricity, but he does know about knots. Watching Beetee and Wiress work was much like watching Mags make hooks: hypnotizing. 

The work on the trunk is complete just as the 10 o’clock wave begins. 

Everyone’s head darts up as the water crashes through the trees, birds scattering high into the sky. 

“Almost time,” Beetee mumbles. He walks around the tree, looking at the design with a critical eye. Satisfied with what he saw, he takes the spool of wire, still half full and hands it to Katniss.

“Take this down to the beach,” He says, “Unwind it as you go. When you get to the beach, throw it as far as you can into the water and make sure it sinks. That is the most important part.”

Katniss looks at the spool. “Then what?”

“Then run. Get back to the jungle.” He pushes the spool harder into Katniss’ hands. “You have to go now if you want to make it back alive.”

“Wait,” Vick cuts in as if realizing exactly what Beetee is asking. “She shouldn’t go alone. Let me go with her.” 

Beetee shakes his head. “There are still some adjustments to do. We will need you here.”

“Then let Finnick go,” He looks around wildly, “Or Johanna.” 

Finnick is about to volunteer when Katniss cuts in. “No. They both need to be here.”

Beetee agrees, “They are the only real fighters here. If they leave, we’ll be defenseless.” He turns to look at Katniss. “I’m sorry, there’s no time to debate this.” 

She nods but still puts the spool down to embrace Vick. 

“Don’t go,” He whispers, curling around her much like he did the day he was reaped. No matter how much he tried to change their relationship, to be her protector, at the end of the day their dynamic stayed the same. Katniss was his shoulder to cry on, his rock in the storm, his shield in the night. 

“It’s okay. I’ll just drop the coil in the water and come right back.”

“Not into the lightning zone,” Beetee reminds her. Head for the next section over - the one-to-two-o’clock sector. That’s where we’ll be.” 

She nods, releasing him. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at midnight.” 

She turns, her eyes landing on Finnick. He wants to fall into her arms just like Vick had and beg her not to go. He can’t help looking down, seeing the holes in her suit, knowing what had happened the last time they were separated. He had almost lost her and not known about it. 

He closes his eyes and clenches his fists. _I almost lost her_ , he reminds himself, _but I didn’t_. She’s the most sure-footed in the jungle. She’s fast. She’s stealthy. She’s --

A touch on his cheek makes him start but he relaxes into the warmth immediately. 

“Katniss,” He whispers, hating the broken note in his tone. She pulls his head down and presses her forehead to his. Slowly, he opens his eyes and looks into endless grey depths. Her other hand reaches down, caressing his arm and dancing over their bracelet before sliding into his. She holds it tightly. 

“Midnight,” She whispers, leaning in to ghost her lips across his. “I promise.” 

“What if you’re late?”

She shakes her head. “I won’t be.” Her free arm wraps around Finnick’s neck, pulling him tight against her. He can feel her breath dance across the shell of his ear as she whispers, “You have a question to ask and I have an answer to give.” 

Pulling back, she kisses him hard one last time and turns to leave before anyone can object further. Her silhouette disappears into the trees easily and only the wire, pulled tight and vibrating slightly from her movements calms his rapidly beating heart.

“She’ll be fine,” Mags mutters, sliding her hand into his. 

Finnick nods more confidently than he feels. “She’ll be fine,” He repeats. He looks over at Vick, straightening his back. “She’ll be fine.” 

Wiress and Beetee quickly get back to work, making minute adjustments to the wire. Vick isn’t much help. How could he be? There was only last minute checks to be done. No, Beetee didn’t keep Vick here because he needed help, he kept Vick here because there were more eyes to watch him, more bodies to sacrifice for him, and more sharp, pointy objects to keep him safe. 

Vick hadn’t been allowed to go with Katniss because he was essential to the rebellion while Katniss was...dispensable. 

“Alright,” Beetee says as the insects begin chirping signaling the last hour before midnight, “It’s finished we should --”

He’s cut off when the taut wire snaps back. Everyone jumps out of the way as the wire tangles with itself in a mess at the base of the tree.

“No, no, no,” Wiress wails, falling to her knees. She reaches into the pile, fingering the silver strands. “Zip, zap, falls the trap.” 

Mags tries to console her, but she keeps won’t, or can’t, stop crying. “No way out.” 

“What happened?” Johanna snaps, rushing Beetee as if he knows the answer. He should, it was his plan. 

“I don’t know. The tensile strength of this wire is too high to break under these loads,” Beetee replies, adjusting his glasses as he backs away from Johanna.

“If it didn’t break,” Vick starts. All the blood drains from his face and he turns back towards the beach. His voice is only a whisper, “It was cut.”

He’s off like a dart, but Johanna is faster. Years of walking the woods in District Seven make her sure-footed and she tackles him before Vick can make it four or five steps. Finnick, however, is only two steps behind him with his trident in hand. He jumps over the pile of limbs and disappears down the mountain, ignoring Johanna’s cries behind him.

“Katniss!” He cries out, not caring if the rest of the Career pack descends on him. If he can distract them or draw at least one of them away then all the better. 

_He shouldn’t have left her alone!_

His heart hammers in his chest as he stumbles down the hill. He slips with every step, falling a few times as he loses his footing but he doesn’t stop. He only hears the deafening absence of her voice as he calls for her again and again. 

He jumps over a rock, his foot slipping as whatever he lands on. He’s on his feet immediately, but trips again. Finally looking down, he realizes he is tangled in the other end of the wire. Next to him is the spool and just beyond that two arrows, a knife and smears of blood all along the rocks leading back up the mountain. 

“KATNISS!” Finnick calls again, his voice hoarse. 

How many arrows did Katniss have - four, five, only the two? He should have paid more attention. What if she was defenseless, fighting against all three Careers? How long could she last? 

A flash of light from up the mountain. Lightning? No, the insects are chirping so loud now that they almost drown out his shouts. 

It was the force field. 

Finnick curses and quickly untangles his feet from the wire. While they were setting set a trap for the Careers, Enobaria and the others had been setting one for them too - and they got to start theirs first. 

He takes a deep breath, willing his mind to clear. There hadn’t been any cannons yet. That meant that Katniss was alive. If he had been setting this trap, he would have sent one person after Katniss and the other two to the camp to deal with the larger group. 

Ignoring the blood trail - _Katniss is alive. There was no cannon. She’s alive._ \- Finnick starts back up the mountain. 

****************************

The small camp is horribly empty. He left five people and now there was only one.

A few feet from the edge of the Arena is Beetee, his skin still steaming softly. Even across the camp, Finnick can make out the horrible burns on his hands. Black and peeling, his damaged skin splits and oozes blood and white fat. The smell of burnt flesh permeates the air, made thicker by the humidity. It sticks in his nose and Finnick can almost taste the bitter scent with every breath. 

Next to him is the wood and wire contraption. Finnick bends down, inspecting the branch. It’s blackened under the wire, just like Beetee’s flesh.

“What were you trying to do?” Finnick whispers, glancing back at District Three Victor. 

He rolls Beetee onto his back, watching the rise and fall of his chest. It’s erratic and shallow but visible. That at least was a good sign. Flinching, Finnick moves Beetee’s hands to his chest and off the dirty forest floor. It was the least he could do until he found the Vick. 

“I’m sorry,” Finnick whispers, “I’ll bring back help.”

Grabbing his trident, Finnick heads out, back down the mountain and away from the loud buzzing of the insects. Even if they had run towards the Careers, Johanna and the others were smart enough to steer clear of the active wedge. 

It seemed logical - and logic was the only thing on his side right now. Luck had abandoned him long ago. 

Or perhaps not. 

A wail, a mix of incoherent crying and something rhythmical echo through the trees. _Wiress!_ Her cries are instantly recognizable. Even with the tinge of fear and insanity coloring the noise, it is almost comforting. 

Then it stops. 

Then the cannon sounds. 

_No. No. No._

A flash of an ugly blue wet suit is all Finnick needs to see before he launches himself through a small group of bushes. He tackles the first body he sees - the only one still upright - and it’s like hitting a brick wall. His shoulder screams in pain but the force still carries them both to the ground. 

Finnick rolls away, trying to get on his feet but they are taken out from under him. A flash of fear races through him as he finally gets a good look at the wall of muscle he had hit. He was unarmed and fighting _Brutus._ The District One Victor had 40 pounds on him and extensive hand-to-hand combat training. Finnick was deadly but that was when he had a net and trident in his hand. This was a whole different situation, one that he wasn’t sure he could win.

Brutus is on him, fists and elbows landing blow after blow on Finnick’s back and ribs. In a vain effort to protect himself, Finnick curls up rolling to protect his aching sides. It makes the situation worse. Brutus falls on him, living up to his name, with heavy and brutal attacks. The pain in unending - blossoming into a haze that blurs each hit into something constant and unbearable. 

Brutus shifts on top, his legs coming around and squeezes around Finnick’s waist and Finnick feels something crack. He screams. White hot pain blazes through his body and he arches instinctively. _Foolish._ He knows it even before Brutus’ arms coil around his neck and _squeeze_.

The pressure is immense. It’s not on his airways, but Finnick feels it building in his head. The rush of blood pounds in his ears with nowhere to go. It presses in on all side, crowding out anything but the need to be free. His arms flail, his legs kick, but Brutus is immovable. 

His vision goes white. Light flashes at the periphery of his vision before turning into black spots. Then, finally, blissfully, there is only darkness.

****************************

The ground is cold. It vibrates softly and jerks violently underneath him. Overhead, the lights are too bright and too white. And the noise. Everything is too loud.

Finnick groans softly as he rolls to his side. There are people huddled around something shouting over some alarm. There are three in green scrubs and another in an ugly blue wetsuit.

“Vick?” Finnick croaks, but the victor doesn’t hear him. Vick is too focused, giving and receiving instructions. His hands are bloody and so is his uniform, but it’s obvious it isn’t his. 

Finnick sits up and immediately regrets it. His head swims, so bad he’s tempted to lie back down. He licks his lips to call out again - desperate to understand what was going on - but he stops short. 

One of the men in scrubs shifts and he catches sight of another face. Auburn hair and sea green eyes. Her skin is pale with worry, highlighting the freckles that dance across the bridge of her nose. She rocks back and forth, gnawing on one of her fingernails that Finnick knows has been worn to the point of damage. 

The world shifts violently as if hit with something, and Finnick stumbles. He lands in a seat, bolted to the wall and before he can get up, a harness is shoved over his head.

He looks up to see Haymitch Abernathy in all his glory - completely sober for once. 

“Finally done being unconscious, peacock?” He asks, the tension clear in his voice. “Just in time too. Strap in. Things are going to get bumpy.”

“What’s going on?” Finnick asks. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees two soldiers come in and haul Vick and Annie into seats. They help the doctors carry off a body - two holding the stretcher and another a bag of fluids before the room takes another hard turn. 

Haymitch grunts and grabs on to the back of Finnick’s chair to keep himself upright. “We’re in a hovercraft and we’re being shot at.” 

“By who?”

“Who do you think?” He snaps, pushing away. He turns to look at Vick, covered in blood. “You alright?”

“This isn’t mine. How’s Wiress?” Vick says. 

Haymitch shrugs. “She’s strapped in and the doctor’s checking out her head.”

“What about the others? Johanna and Katniss? We’re going to get them aren’t we?” 

Haymitch turns away, the red light of the alarms highlighting the pain on his face. Vick stares at him. “Haymitch?”

“We were almost shot out of the sky getting you,” He whispers, unable to look at Vick. 

“No.” Vick shakes his head, a sense of hysteria setting in. He jerks, fighting against the restraints. “No!” His hands struggle with the lock, but shake too much and he ends up pulling at the uselessly at the lock. “NO!”

“We had to make a choice.”

“The _wrong_ choice!” Vick shouts, his voice raw with anger. “Turn around. We have to go back! We have to get Katniss! You can’t leave her there! You can’t!”

Haymitch shakes his head, leaving them alone. 

Finnick watches Vick struggle, shout, and cry with a strange detachment. Whatever plan Haymitch and Heavensbee had concocted had worked. He was on his way far from the Capitol, from Snow.

And from Katniss.


End file.
